THE DARK AND FORBIDDING LAND

By Wesley Allison

Smashwords Edition

The Dark and Forbidding Land

Copyright © 2010 by Wesley Allison

Revision: 11-26-15

All Rights Reserved. This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If sold, shared, or given away it is a violation of the copyright of this work. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual people, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Wesley Allison

Cover Image Copyright © 201 Siegi232 | Dreamstime.com

ISBN 978-1-4523-2011-3

* * * * *

For Ann, My Mother

Senta and the Steel Dragon

Book Two

The Dark and Forbidding Land

By Wesley Allison

Chapter One: Winter

The snow was falling from the sky in great clumpy bunches. They dropped like feathers through the still, cold air to form great piles on the ground. The snow had been coming down steadily for four hours. The huckleberry and azalea bushes were covered over with a thick blanket. The little walkway of stepping-stones that led to the road and the road itself were just memories, covered by billowy white. Spruces and maples dipped their bare branches forlornly and even the mighty redwoods struggled under the weight of the gathering snow. But the snow didn’t care. It continued on, relentlessly smothering the world. It completely surrounded the strange five-story home nestled in the Birmisian woods. Not too far away a tremendous roar echoed through the trees.

“Monster,” said the steel dragon, peeking out the door from between Graham Dokkin’s legs.

“Tyrannosaurus,” corrected Senta Bly. “I guess he doesn’t like the snow too much.”

“Well who does?” wondered Graham, looking down at the dragon. “And get your head away from there. That’s all I need, to have my goolies bit.”

“He hasn’t bitten anyone in almost a year,” countered Senta. “Has he Hero?”

Hero Hertling didn’t answer. At the mention of goolies, she had covered her face with both hands, though one could still spot the spreading blush around its edges. She and her brother Hertzal, along with Graham, were spending the day at Senta’s house. They had been delivered just before the snow started by Graham’s Da to the five-story structure set well away from the rest of Port Dechantagne. Although Senta and her guardian, Zurfina the Magnificent, had been living here for almost a year, it had taken quite a while to convince Graham’s parents and Hero and Hertzal’s older sister to let them spend the day there. This was the first time that all three had visited together.

“Why don’t you close the door?” said Hero from between her fingers. “Who knows what might run out of the forest and into here.”

Her brother, who never said anything, nodded.

“Alright then. Move over dragon.” Graham scooted the steel beastie with his boot while shutting the door.

“Call him by his name,” said Senta.

“Bessemer,” said the dragon, and then made his way to the far wall to curl up on a single large pillow next to the cast iron stove.

Though more than eight feet from tip of whiskered snout to the barbed tip of his tail, Bessemer was not much taller at the shoulder than a medium sized dog. Scales the color of polished steel covered him from his nose all the way to the clawed tips of his fingers. Even his eyes were steel colored, so much so that it was difficult to see just where he was looking. So lithe and agile was he when he moved, it was rather like watching a river flow across the room.

“Bessemer,” said Graham, still looking at the dragon. “It just doesn’t fit. I’d have gone with Whiskers or Peetie.”

“Zurfina says that dragons are born knowing their own names,” said Senta. “It’s just another sign that they are so much smarter than people.”

“Fina,” said the dragon.

“When is Zurfina getting home,” wondered Hero, at last uncovering her face. “I can’t believe she left you all alone out here in the wilderness.”

“This isn’t the wilderness. This is our house.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s not any farther away from the wall than your new house is.”

“No, but there are other houses around ours.”

Hero and Hertzal lived in a small but sturdy house that was part of a new neighborhood on the east side of the growing colony. Though their house had been the first one built in that area, there were now more than a dozen similar structures, all occupied by ethnic Zaeri, who had fled persecution in Freedonia.

“Zurfina is very busy lately,” explained Senta. “With no wizards in the colony, she has to do all the magic stuff herself—at least until I get good enough to help out. Besides I’m used to taking care of myself.”

“It’s on account of her being a orphan,” offered Graham.

The three other children all stared mutely at him.

“What?” he asked, having forgotten that of the four, he was the only one who was not an orphan.

Graham, who although he had recently hit a growth spurt was still decidedly chunky, had brown hair, freckles, and very large teeth. He was dressed in a long-sleeved flannel shirt and dungarees rolled up around the leather boots that had once been his father’s. Graham always wore his dungarees rolled up at the ankles, as his mother was in the habit of buying them to fit him sometime in the distant future. Still the fact that all his clothes, save the boots, were new, spoke to the Dokkins family’s growing prosperity. Hero and Hertzal, who were twins, both with thick dark hair, though Hertzal kept his cut short around the ears, and beautiful dark eyes, wore neat and well-maintained, but obviously home-sewn clothes. Following the Freedonian Zaeri custom, which eschewed color, Hertzal wore a white shirt with brown trousers while his sister wore a brown dress with a white linen overdress.

“Hungry,” said Bessemer from the corner.

“Yes, it’s about time for tea,” agreed Senta.

Senta stood out from the other three children like day stands out from night. Her straight, light blond hair seemed the exact opposite of Hero's thick, curly, raven waves. Senta's skin, which in the summer had taken on a bit of tan as she played around town, had gone back to its natural alabaster white. And though she was only an inch taller than the twins, she seemed far more so because she was very thin. Today she wore one more in a series of bizarre creations that Zurfina provided for her on a daily basis. Zurfina, her guardian and a powerful sorceress, was of the opinion that she and her ward should appear mysterious. To Senta's mind, the clothing that usually resulted from this idea was too often just plain weird. This particular outfit, a black dress made of luxurious Mirsannan silk, looked far too much like a dressing gown for her taste. It draped down to her ankles with no decoration or flourish while the long sleeves and neck exploded with black lace. Still, it had one great redeeming feature. It was warm.

Graham and Hertzal sat down at the table, while Senta and Hero gathered fruit and cheese, butter and jam, scones that Graham’s mother had sent along, and a pot of tea.

“Still, it is dangerous out here in the woods so far from the protective wall,” continued Hero, who seemed to relish having something of which to be frightened. “Honor said that four grown men were attacked by a large group of Deinonychus when they were cutting firewood.”

“My Da says ‘this is Birmisia and you’ve just got to keep your wits about you’,” said Graham. “It won’t be long before we’re all living outside the wall and nobody will think anything about it. Besides this tower is ace.”

Senta had already given her three friends the three-pfennig tour of her new home. It wasn’t really a tower. It was just a small building, no larger in floor area than most homes, but rising to five stories. The ground floor was a kitchen, dining area, and storage rooms. The first floor up was the living room and Bessemer’s chamber. The second floor up was a bedroom and playroom for Senta. Above that was Zurfina’s bedroom and boudoir. The very top story was the sorceress’s private study, which had not been on the tour, and which in fact Senta herself had never seen.

“I do love your room,” said Hero. “All that space just for you. You’re like a princess.”

“Mind you I don’t know why the dragon needs his own room,” said Graham. “All he does is sit down here by the stove anyway. And what do you need a bathtub in your bedroom for?”

Senta’s bedroom did indeed feature, in addition to a large four poster bed, a floor chest, a pair of small nightstands, an oak wardrobe, a five shelf bookcase, and a cheval glass; a large claw-foot bathtub with fully modern plumbing, which had only just been connected.

“I bathe every single day in my tub and I love it.”

“That’s just not healthy.” Graham raised a finger as if he was tutoring philosophy. “My Da says you’ll wash off the protective layer of dirt and oil.”

Moments after this bit of philosophizing, Graham had turned quiet as he tucked into the afternoon repast. Senta let the others begin while she continued around the kitchen area, the most wonderful feature of which was a froredor. The froredor was a magical icebox. It didn’t look too different from any other icebox, most of which were simply heavily insulated cabinetry. But where iceboxes had two small doors, one for the food storage area and one in which to put the ice, the froredor had only one large door. It never needed ice. Magic kept it at thirty-eight degrees. Of course one could simply have placed the food outside the door in a snow bank, but that would probably only invite more deinonychus or their smaller cousins the velociraptors, who needed precious little invitation.

Placing two large sausages on a plate, along with a crumpet, Senta carried it over to Bessemer and set it down beside him before returning to the table and sitting down.

“Say thank you,” she called over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” said the dragon, his voice not too different than that of a small child.

“You keep training him to talk and pretty soon you won’t be able to shut him up,” warned Graham, a bit of masticated crumpet flying from his mouth to land beside his plate.

“Thank you for never talking with your mouth full,” Senta told Hertzal pointedly. The dark haired boy nodded happily, while Graham looked appropriately chastened.

The roar of the tyrannosaurus echoed through the forest outside once again. Hero shivered and Graham carefully swallowed before speaking.

“If I had a rifle right now, I’d go out and shoot that thing.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Senta. “How do you think we’d feel if all we had of you was one foot?”

“Father Ian didn’t have a gun and he wasn’t hunting. I’d have my wits about me.”

Father Ian, the priest who had arrived on the H.M.S. Minotaur along with Senta, Graham, and the first group of colonists, had been killed and almost completely eaten by a tyrannosaurus, though his single shoe-clad foot had been given an appropriate burial.

The small group finished their meal and then gathered around the stove, wrapping up in large fluffy blankets as Hero read The Pale Sun by Geert Resnick. The twin's older sister Honor, who served as their tutor and guardian, required the book for their lessons. Zurfina had taken on Senta’s instruction and could not possibly care less whether she read any novels at all. And Graham had only been induced to listen by the revelation that the book had been banned in Freedonia, however as he would later discover much to his unhappiness, this was because of an indictment of Freedonian politics and not for any lurid sexual content. They had just gotten comfortably settled when they realized that the light coming in through the shuttered windows from outside had become too dim for reading. Without getting up, Senta pointed her finger and said “Uuthanum,” magicing some candles to life.

Hero had read the first two chapters when the door opened and a figure clad from head to toe in black furs stepped inside. The figure brushed the snow off its shoulders and then pulled back its hood to reveal Zurfina the Magnificent. Unbuttoning her heavy fur coat, she let it drop to the floor, stepping out of it to reveal an outfit that exactly matched Senta’s. The outfit was not the only thing about Zurfina that resembled Senta. She had the same color of blond hair, though she had a small bald spot over her right ear, and the same pale complexion. Zurfina was slightly on the tall side, a trait almost always enhanced by high heels, and though slender, possessed an appropriate amount of female curves—something Senta found herself envying more each day.

“Why is my house infested with children?” the sorceress demanded, though exactly to whom she was speaking was unclear. “Why aren’t you all out playing in the snow? It was my understanding that children adore it.”

“The tyrannosaurus is out there,” said Senta.

“Well if it attacks, you simply run in four different directions. That way you have at least a seventy five percent chance of getting away.”

“Unless he can hop from one to the other of us,” said Senta. “I doubt he would be as hindered by the snow as we would be.”

“Then perhaps you’ve made a good decision,” said Zurfina and headed up the staircase in the center of the room. “Wake me for dinner, Pet.”

“Is she serious?” wondered Graham.

“About dinner?”

“No. About us playing when the tyrannosaurus is about.”

Senta shrugged. “You know she almost let me get eaten by velociraptors once.”

Any further consideration of her mistress's peculiarities was cut short by a knock at the door. Picking up Zurfina’s discarded coat and throwing it onto the coat rack, Senta opened the door to find Honor Hertling and three armed militiamen, one of whom was carrying a lantern.

“Did you have fun?” she asked the four children. “It’s time to go home now.”

“I thought my Da was coming to get us,” said Graham.

“He was needed at the saw mill, so I said that I would come and fetch you. Of course Mayor Korlann wouldn’t let me out of the gate without an armed escort.” She indicated the three men who were glancing cautiously into the dark spaces between the trees. She waited at the door while Graham, Hertzal, and Hero gathered their things.

Honor Hertling was in many ways an older version of Hero, with a thick mane of raven hair and large, expressive, dark eyes. Her lips were as enchanting as her eyes, but her nose, that feature that so often goes unnoticed in even the most beautiful, was the most striking thing about her. It was perfect; neither too long nor too short: perfectly symmetrical and correctly sized for her face. That nose brought together those lips and those eyes in a symphony of beauty on a face that had once been flawless. But the flawless days had ended in Freedonia, when a soldier’s rifle butt had smashed down on that beautiful face and now a scar ran from her cheekbone to her chin. It was not so horrible a scar that people looked away. It was not so bad that their eyes were constantly drawn to it when they spoke to her. It was noticeable though, and just as though a scratch is more noticeable on a steam carriage that is brand new rather than one that has seen some years of service, it was all the more noticeable and all the more tragic because of the otherwise perfect face that it marred. And in Honor’s eyes, it ruined her.

After watching her friends start off through the snow, Senta closed the door and sat back down to read. She didn’t continue with The Pale Sun, which Hero had taken anyway. She read from the big book of Argrathian mythology that she had found in one of Zurfina’s unpacked boxes. It was filled with fantastic stories of ancient gods and goddesses, as well as quite a few of the type of lurid details that Graham would have appreciated, had she chosen to share it with him. After a bit more than an hour, she got up and began seeing to dinner. There wasn’t much left in the froredor quite frankly, but she did find the large ocean fish that Graham had brought the day before and she had potatoes. She could make fish and chips. She peeled and sliced the potatoes. Then she cleaned the fish and cut it into large rectangular pieces, after which she had to stoke up the fire in the stove and add several logs. As she mixed the flour, salt, egg, and beer to form the batter, she called to the steel dragon, still sitting on his cushion by the stove.

“Bessemer, why don’t you go wake Zurfina?”

“Fina,” responded the dragon, and hopped from his warm spot to the base of the stairs in one bounce and shot up the steps.

By the time that Zurfina arrived at the foot of the stairs, Bessemer at her heels, Senta had set the table and fried the chips and fish, which she scooped into heaping piles on each of three plates. This time Bessemer climbed up on one of the chairs and picked up a piece of fish with his clawed fingers, examining it before tossing it into his mouth.

“I hope you didn’t use all of my beer,” said the sorceress.

“No, of course not,” Senta replied, retrieving a dark beer from the froredor as well as a Billingbow’s Soda Water for herself. “So where have you been all day, anyway?”

“I’ve been gathering potion ingredients.”

“Are we going to make more happiness potion?”

“We have enough Blessudine to last us for months. You must learn to make other potions.”

“Well I want to, but they’re hard.”

“Tomorrow we’ll make some Amorazine and you can use it on that chubby boy that you like.”

“His name is Graham and when he grows up he’s going to love me for me, not because of any love potion.”

“As you say,” said Zurfina, picking up a chip and biting into it.

The next day when Senta got up though, Zurfina was nowhere to be found. She might have been on the top floor of the tower, but as she had expressed on more than one occasion that the girl was never to enter that level, Senta didn't go to see. It was just as likely that she was not there. Senta had long grown accustomed to Zurfina’s random comings and goings, made most of the time without any notification to her ward.

Senta indulged in a nice long bath, the water provided by the new plumbing system but magically heated. Then she had the last bit of bread in the house with a spoon of jam for a breakfast. Bessemer was fast asleep next to the stove and didn’t even wake up to ask for something to eat.

Outside the snow was more than two feet deep in the middle of the yard and in the road, while next to the house and among the trees in the forest, the drifts were taller than a grown man. The flakes had stopped falling for now, but the skies looked as though they could open up and drop much more at any time. Senta threw on her heavy coat over the short black dress with black and white stockings that she had found waiting for her that morning, and slipped on a large pair of oiled boots that Graham had grown out of. Then she headed out the door.

The clouds hung low, touching the tops of the massive pines. The world seemed very small. Sounds echoed between the trees. Senta walked into the center of the yard and looked around into the surrounding forest for any sign of the tyrannosaurus, but its massive black body and great red face were pleasantly absent. A couple of microraptors chased each other from a huge pine to a maple and back, while a pair of buitreraptors and a lone mahakala dug around in the snow near the edge of the road. Most of the proper birds had flown south for the winter, but these strange Birmisian birds were ever present.

Senta dropped onto her back in the center of the yard, with her arms outstretched and made a snow angel. Getting back up, she walked across the yard, managing to stay on the path despite the fact that she had to guess at its location. Then she started east down the road, startling the two buitreraptors into the woods, though the mahakala stubbornly refused to leave on account of one small human.

It was a walk of only about three hundred yards from the new home Zurfina the sorceress and her ward to the large gate in the protective wall that divided the now completely subdued peninsula from the large and still untamed forest. When Senta reached the gate she found a great deal of activity. A Town Square had been built just outside the gate some months before, and it would eventually be the center point of the colony. A new flagpole had been delivered on the last ship and two men, while a small crowd of men and women watched, were erecting it. That was not all that was going on though. No less than three good-sized buildings were under construction around the square despite the frigid and damp weather. The two new buildings on the east side of the square already had walls, doors, and windows and now men walked around upon their roofs hammering down shingles. The building on the southwest corner was still being framed in when Senta had last seen it—little more than a wooden and iron skeleton of a building. Now its walls were done and it too was getting a roof. The three were joining the two buildings that had sat along the east side of the square since its construction—the dress shop and Mr. Parnorsham's Pfennig Store. Senta saw a face she knew and walked over to its owner.

“Hello Mr. Darwin.”

“Oh hello, Senta,” said the bespectacled older man, who was only slightly taller than the ten year old girl. “How are you this cold morning?”

“I’m okay. Which of these buildings is going to be yours?”

“This one right here,” he replied, pointing to the left most of the two having their roofs put on. “I’m right next to Mr. Parnorsham’s Pfennig Store. I think that’s the best spot in the square. Don’t you?”

“I kind of thought you would have moved in there when Mrs. Wachtel died,” said Senta, indicating the shop just to the left of the Pfennig Store.

“Yes, well… to be honest, when Mrs. Wachtel… a… passed away,” Mr. Darwin crossed himself. “I had already signed the paperwork.”

“So what are they going to do with her place?”

“It’s my understanding that Mrs. Bratihn is going to take over the business.”

“I guess that will be good since her husband can’t work on account of being blind.”

“Mmm,” nodded Mr. Darwin, noncommittally while he took off his glasses to wipe them with a clean handkerchief.

“I didn’t expect Mrs. Government to let us go too long without a dress shop.”

Mr. Darwin bit his lower lip. “Senta, you are irrepressible. You are going to have to learn to watch what you say.”

“I think Senta will always say what she means,” said a voice from behind them.

They turned around to see Egeria Lusk in a beautiful dress that was only slightly less white than the surrounding snow and a bright colored coat that was only slightly more red than her fiery hair, which just now was pulled up into a bun and tucked behind the straw boater she wore. Miss Lusk was a very small woman with very large green eyes, and though strikingly beautiful, she was known more for her keen mind.

“Good day to you, sir,” she said, curtseying to Mr. Darwin, who bowed at the waist in return. “Where are you off to, Senta?”

Senta shrugged.

“I’m going to the Pfennig Store for some lace. Why don’t you come along with me?”

“Okay. Good day Mr. Darwin.”

“Good day beautiful ladies,” said Mr. Darwin, once again bowing at the waist.

Miss Lusk glided across the snowy square and Senta followed, watching the swaying motion of the woman’s fashionably large bustle. It was just about large enough that Senta and another ten year old could have hidden themselves under it. Miss Lusk’s bright red coat was cut wide at the bottom to expand and encompass her very large lower half.

“That’s a great dress,” remarked Senta. “You must have a huge hip bag under there.”

Miss Lusk glanced over her shoulder and winked. “All part of the price of fashion. I’m afraid that without the proper foundation I just don’t have the necessary shape.”

“I don’t think anybody has a bottom that big,” said Senta.

“No. Nobody does.” Miss Lusk stopped to pull open the door of the Pfennig Store. “And nobody walks around on their toes either, but we wear high-heels to look like we do.”

Senta stepped inside the door as the bell hanging above it jingled. Miss Lusk followed and the bell jingled again as the door closed. Mr. Parnorsham looked up from behind the counter where he was rearranging costume jewelry in the glass case. He squinted through his bifocals and wiped his hands on his white apron.

“Good day ladies.”

“Good day Mr. Parnorsham.” Miss Lusk politely feigned interest in the costume jewelry. “I’m in need of some two inch lace today.”

“Let me show you what I have.”

Senta wandered over to look at the toy counter. It was a small twenty-four inch square counter divided into six-inch square compartments, each with a different type of toy. There were rubber bouncing balls, toy guns, tin soldiers, doll-sized teacups with saucers, and wooden ponies with yarn tails. Senta picked one up and made a horse noise by blowing air between her lips.

“That’s just the one I need,” said Miss Lusk from the other aisle.

“How much is the toy horse, Mr. Parnorsham?” called Senta.

“It’s a toy pony and it’s five pfennigs. Oh, by the way Miss Lusk, I just got in some more tins of butter biscuits. I know how much you like them.”

“Yes I’ll take one of those too.”

“Just one?”

“Just one,” she peered around the aisle at Senta and whispered loudly. “I won’t need that bustle if I keep eating these. Aren’t you a bit old for a toy pony?”

“It’s for Bessemer. He’s been playing with my doll lately and I’m afraid he’s going to bite her head off.”

“Do you have five pfennigs?”

“Yeah. I just don’t know if I want to spend them. I guess I will though.” She picked up the wooden pony and brought it to the counter.

“That will be seventy five p, Miss Lusk.”

“We’ll have two of those as well,” said Miss Lusk, pointing at a large framed picture of a brown bottle emblazoned with the words “Billingbow’s Original Sarsaparilla and Wintergreen Soda Water.” Then she winked again at Senta.

“Well that will bring you total to ninety seven P.”

Miss Lusk reached daintily into her bosom and withdrew a small roll of paper banknotes of which she peeled off a single one-mark note and held it out. Mr. Parnorsham looked at it for a long moment as if not sure whether it was appropriate for him to touch something that had just come from within a young woman’s garments. Finally he took it by the very corner and carrying it carefully, as though he thought it might spontaneously combust, he placed it in the cash box, and withdrew three copper pfennigs change, which, now overwhelmed by the idea of more intimate physical contact, he placed on the counter instead of in Miss Lusk’s hand.

He turned around and pulled two Billingbow’s from the ice box and set them next to the other purchases and then turned his attention to Senta.

“Five P.”

Senta slapped down a two-tone five-pfennig piece, with its copper center and nickle outer ring. She watched unhappily as Mr. Parnorsham picked it up and added it to his till. She had been saving that coin for quite a while, not because of any sentimental attachment, but because she thought that the coin was much prettier than even more valuable coins. Unlike most every other Brech coin, it didn’t feature the face of one of the royal family on the obverse, just a big number five surrounded by some kind of leaves. On the reverse side, it had the image of an owl.

“So what is your feeling about Mr. Darwin opening his store next to yours?” Miss Lusk asked the proprietor.

“I’m actually looking forward to it. Now I’ll have someone to visit with during the afternoon lull.”

“Do you know what’s going to go in the other two new buildings?”

“On the other side of Darwin will be Mr. Vever’s jewelry shop.”

“Oh indeed,” said Miss Lusk, holding up her left hand. “He made my engagement ring you know.”

Mr. Parnorsham dutifully squinted at the ring and nodded in appreciation.

“What about the building across the way?”

“That’s going to be the new bakery. A Zaeri woman named Mrs. Finkler will be running it.”

“Yes. Ada Finkler. She’s very nice.”

“She seems nice,” said Mr. Parnorsham. “Not that I’ve known many Zaeri.”

“Good day Mr. Parnorsham,” said Miss Lusk, handing one bottle of Billingbow’s to Senta, and picking up the rest of her purchases. Senta took the soda bottle in one hand and picked up the toy horse with the other, and the two of them stepped outside, the bell above the door ringing once again.

“You know Mr. Parnorsham, Mr. Darwin, and Mr. Vever are all going to be in a row,” said Senta.

“Yes… Is there some significance to that?”

“Only that they’re all little old bald men.”

Miss Lusk covered her mouth with her hand, trying to be discreet as she giggled. “Mr. Vever isn’t that old…. And Mr. Parnorsham isn’t… completely bald.”

“Sure he is,” said Senta. “I wouldn’t say it in front of him, because he’s pretty nice.”

“I appreciate your discretion.” Tears were forming in Miss Lusk’s eyes. “Excuse me just a moment.”

She turned and went back into the store. Senta took a swig of her Billingbow’s and looked across at the construction of the bakery. A boy only a few years older than her was directing several grown men working on the project.

“Do you know that boy?” asked Miss Lusk, coming back outside.

“That’s Aalwijn Finkler. I guess he wants to make sure that his mom’s bakery is put together right.”

Miss Lusk had apparently gone back in the store for a straw, which she now stuck into the top of her soda bottle and daintily sipped from. Noticing the girl looking at her, she said, “I never learned to swig.”

They both heard a commotion across the square at the same time and turned back to the bakery. Aalwijn Finkler and the men working with, or for him had stopped what they were doing and were speaking loudly, though Senta could only catch a few of their words. The subject of their discussions soon became apparent though as a line of some forty lizzies came walking into the square from the south. A sole militiaman, armed with a rifle slung haphazardly over his shoulder accompanied them.

The workmen went back to their hammering, but Aalwijn Finkler hopped down from the construction site and stepped across the square just in front of the line of lizardmen, who were moving so slowly in the cold weather that it looked to Senta as though they were suffering the effects of a slow spell. The young man walked up to the woman and the girl.

“Hey Senta,” he said.

“Hey.” Senta took another swig of soda.

“Um… Hello Miss Lusk.”

“I’m flattered that you know me, Mr. Finkler,” said Miss Lusk smiling.

“Oh, everyone knows you, Miss Lusk,” Aalwijn said, not registering the fact that she knew his name. “I suppose you’ll be heading over to the base after this lot.”

“Why would you suppose that?” wondered Senta.

“These are the lizzies that are going to be the household servants,” explained Aalwijn. “I expect you’ll need quite a few for that fine house of yours.”

“My home won’t be ready for a few weeks yet,” said Miss Lusk.

“Someday I’m going to have a house like yours. Then my mother and I can take it easy and we’ll have dozens of lizzies to wait on us.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll tell you what. When my home is completed, I’ll have both of you over to tea.” She smiled at the two young people. “In the meantime, I’m on my way back to my apartment, so I must say adieu.”

“Good day, Miss,” said Aalwijn.

“Bye,” said Senta.

Miss Lusk started toward the gate, rapidly overtaking the long line of lizzies, who had only now reached the opening in the great wall. The two children stood looking on, though whether either was watching the lizzies or Miss Lusk’s swaying bustle was a matter of interpretation.

Chapter Two: The Lizzie

Ssissiatok shuffled down the road and through the gate in the great wooden wall. On either side, groups of soft-skins watched her and the other people. The people walked slowly as they always did in the cold. This was not to say they could only walk slowly in the cold, but Ssterrost had reminded all of them coming from Tserich how they were to act. They were to act slow and they were to act simple and they were not to show the newcomers anything they weren’t expecting. Most of the people in this group were from Tserich, but there were a few others. Ssissiatok recognized the tribal symbol of Tuustutu on the shoulder of one very tall male in the back of the group.

Ssissiatok herself was slightly less than six feet in height, about average for members of her sex and species. She was young and didn’t have the mottled skin and scars of most of her elders. Her face and the top of her head were a deep forest green, which ran down her back, punctuated with darker stripes just below her shoulders. Beneath her long powerful jaw, on her dewlap, and extending down her front, was a lighter, pale green. Her most attractive feature, her long powerful tail, followed her just a few inches above the ground.

The line of people filed through the wall and between the large square huts of the soft-skins. Though she had heard elders telling stories of the great cities of Suusthek, Tsotollah, and Tsahloose, this softskin village was the largest community that Ssissiatok had ever seen. More and more of the soft-skins lined the road to gawk and to jabber with their little mouths, as the people reached the bigger buildings that were “the base.” Ssissiatok knew “base” and many other human words.

The line stopped and a softskin ahead was shouting. “You lizzies move on up here.”

Ssissiatok and the other people moved forward into a group.

“You will step up to the table and give the soldier your name and information. Then you will be given your identification and you will wait on the seats over there until the employers come to select you.”

Ssissiatok fell in line behind Tissonisuk, an older male she knew from the village. Unlike most of the others, Tissonisuk was not hunkering down to make himself look smaller for the soft-skins. He was standing up at his full six foot seven height. The line moved forward until Tissonisuk reached the table with the softskin seated behind it.

“Name? Oh, hey. I know you, don’t I? Tisson. Right?”

Tissonisuk bobbed his head up and down in the way that the soft-skins did.

“Come to sign on permanent, eh? Good for you. Hold out your hand. Keep this identification bracelet on at all times.”

Tissonisuk, now just Tisson, stepped away from the table. Ssissiatok stepped forward.

“Hey now. You’re a short one, aren’t you? Are you a girl?”

Ssissiatok didn’t know this word.

“Female?”

Ssissiatok hissed in the affirmative, but the softskin didn’t understand, and lowered his hand to the weapon on his belt.

“Fee nail. Fee nail,” said Ssissiatok quickly.

“That’s better. And you can talk too. A little feisty. Don’t worry. We’ll work that out of you in no time. Hold your hand out.”

Ssissiatok did as directed and the softskin tied an identification bracelet around her wrist. She looked at the strange symbols on it.

“Want to know what it says? That’s your number now—295. And it says you can talk, so you can’t fool us. Don’t even try. What’s your name Little Miss Lizzie?”

“Ssissiatok.”

“Cissy. Perfect.”

“Ssissiatok.”

“You’re Cissy now, got it? And I’ve got just the place for you. Go stand over with that lot there.”

The softskin pointed to where Tissonisuk sat. Ssissiatok walked over to them. She recognized Hekheesiatu, another female just older than she, but from a house with slightly less status. The third person she didn’t recognize. He was an average looking male with mottled yellow skin and brown stripes on his back.

“Tissonisuk,” she said, raising the back of her hand to her dewlap.

“No,” he replied in the human language. “Not Tissonisuk. Tisson. Only the hoonan name. Kheesie,” he said, pointing at Hekheesiatu, and then pointing at the person Ssissiatok didn’t know, he said, “Sirruk.”

“The soft-skins are still angry,” he said, dropping back into the language of the people. “They are still angry because Ssithtsutsu attacked them. They already destroyed Suusthek and killed many, many people, but they might kill more. We are here because they need us, but don’t think they are not dangerous.”

“They are so small and soft,” said Ssissiatok, now just Cissy.

“You see that one over there?” Tisson indicated a softskin leaning against one of the big buildings. He was watching the other humans and the people. “That one is called Clark. He is smaller than you are and he is soft in their way, but he is one of their strongest warriors. He killed hundreds of the people. I tell you these humans are like the blue frog that lives in the tallest trees. You could easily crush it with your foot, but one touch would kill you.”

Cissy nodded.

Now another softskin was talking to the one that Tisson had pointed out as Clark. Both were looking in the direction of Cissy and the others.

“What is it?” asked Cissy.

“She is a female,” said Tisson, standing up. “The females have very wide bottoms. And you can see she is older because the tuft of hair on her head is grey.”

“You know much, old one,” said Sirrek, sounding impressed.

“I have come to the human village many times over the last two years, to trade and to work. In Tserich they will no longer let me hunt, because I am getting too old, but the humans will let me work and earn many copper bits.”

The older human female approached the group. She was tiny even next to Cissy who was the smallest of the four, but she walked right up to them without fear. Sirrek and Kheesie stood. The human woman took each of the four by the shoulder and turned them around to look at their skin, their tails, and their feet. She reached up and examined Tisson’s dewlap.

“I do believe Sergeant Clark is correct,” she said. “You are a promising looking lot. What are your names?”

Tisson put his hand, palm out over his dewlap.

“I Tisson,” he said, then pointed to each of the others in turn. “This Sirrek, Kheesie, Cissy.”

“Wonderful!” shouted the human, clapping her hands together. “My yes, you are a fine fellow. Excellent. You will all come along with me.” She waved for them to follow and then started across the base towards the great wall. “My name is Mrs. Colbshallow, though I don’t imagine you’ll be able to pronounce it. You can say ‘Lady’, yes?”

“Lady.” Each of the four lizzies tried out the word.

They reached the edge of the base when they were suddenly waylaid by a soldier with one of the big weapons slung over his shoulder. The four lizzies instinctively shrunk back and tried to look small.

“Did you get a good selection, Mother?” the soldier asked Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Yes, yes. No need to worry about that. I’ve been hiring servants for nearly forty years now. I know how to spot a good one, be he man or beast.” She turned to the four lizardmen. “This is my son, Saba.”

“They don’t need to know my name, Mother.”

“Of course they do. You’ll be coming to dine at the Dechantagne house at least once a day.

“I’ve got my own house in the works you know,” replied the soldier. “And besides, I don’t think the Dechantagne house will ever be finished.”

“Oh hush. It’s practically done now. A bit of paint here and a bit of plaster there. My room will be ready by next week. In fact, we’re all moving in next week. We’re going to squeeze in downstairs until the upstairs is complete.”

“Well I just hope you don’t freeze to death, Mother.” The soldier walked away and Mrs. Colbshallow led Cissy and the others off the base and up the street toward the great gate.

“Did you understand that conversation, Tisson?” asked Mrs. Colbshallow. “How fluent in Brech are you and the others?”

“I talk lot words. I understand. Cissy talk. Sisson, he understand, no talk. Kheesie understand little, no talk.”

“Excellent. You will make a fine majordomo. You may explain to the others anything that they might not understand.”

“The lady says I may speak the language of the people to tell you things,” said Tisson. “That soldier was her offspring.”

“Her offspring?” Cissy was so stunned she fell out of step.

“Yes. They are not like the people. They keep their offspring with them when they are born and raise their own.”

Cissy fell back in line behind Tisson and in front of Kheesie. How strange, she thought, to know your own mother, not to wonder whom among the tribe you came from. Among her people, each winter there was mating, followed some weeks later by egg laying. All the eggs were laid in the same pit and covered over with warm sand and rotting vegetation. When the offspring hatched in the spring, the tribe collected them and brought them to the village, but no one knew for sure which offspring had come from which female. Yes, how strange it would be to know your own mother—how strange and how wonderful.

Mrs. Colbshallow had to stop at the gate and wait for them. Though so much shorter than even Cissy, she had outpaced them. Once they had reached her, she turned and continued through the gate and across the square. The same soft-skins who had gawked at them when they had first come into town, now gawked at them again.

“It’s not far from here,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “Less than a quarter mile.”

Cissy had no idea what that meant and Tisson didn’t elaborate. They walked down the long road through the trees. Here and there amid the forest giants, the humans were building more of their square huts, these even larger than the ones inside the walls of the village. Finally they turned down a narrow path toward the largest structure that Cissy had ever seen. It was huge, with large columns in front. Cissy understood what a porch was, but this building had two porches, one atop the other and a series of large steps leading up to the lower one. The tall, tilted roof had a dozen chimneys rising up from it, about half of which were sending smoke into the chilly air.

“Don’t tell Saba I said so, but he may be right,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “They broke ground more than a year ago and they say they won’t be able to plaster the first floor rooms until the spring.”

The door burst open and a human female strode out. She was dressed in blue the color of the sky. Tisson and Sirrek both sucked in a breath as if someone had hit them on the tips of their tails.

“Do you have any idea where my…” she started loudly, but then stopped and lowered her voice. “Do you have any idea where my husband is, Mrs. Colbshallow?”

“Sorry. I’ve not seen him this morning.”

The younger woman paused and looked at the four lizardmen, then turned around and went back inside.

“The Matriarch,” said Tisson.

“I don’t know what you said,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “But I expect you know who she is, yes?”

Tisson nodded.

“Well, you’re all working for her, and she’ll brook no nonsense. Come along out back.” She led them around the house to a large garden in the rear. “I hired three yesterday, though I expect they’ll be outside help mostly. You all will work inside. I’m sure I’ll be hiring more.

In the back of the great house was a smaller building. It had two very large doors in the front, which opened into a single big room. The back half of the building was divided into two rooms, each of which could be reached either through a door from the front room, or from an outside door. These two rooms were set up with six rectangular mattresses on the floor. Each also had a fireplace and a small sink with a pump.

“Now I’ve consulted the experts as to your accommodations, and I’m told that this will be satisfactory. You prefer to sleep on the floor, yes? Well, I think you’ll like these mattresses. They are much better than the bare cement. You understand me?”

Tisson nodded and the others followed his lead.

“We have one room for the gentlemen and one for the ladies.”

Cissy had no idea what the lady was saying, so she looked to Tisson. He was staring blankly, clearly at a loss.

“Male here,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “Female there.”

“Ah,” Tisson nodded, and then turning to the others he said in his native tongue. “The males will sleep in here. The females in the other room… on these… things.”

“Why are we to be divided?” wondered Kheesie.

“I think I know, but I will explain it later,” said Tisson.

“Is there a problem?” asked Mrs. Colbshallow.

“No. No troddlen. Nale. Fenail.”

“Yes, well we can’t have you comingling, now can we? It wouldn’t be proper.” Mrs. Colbshallow stepped toward the door. “I’m going to give you an hour to get settled in. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Coins?” said Tisson.

“Coins? Oh. You want to know what your wages are?”

Tisson and Cissy both nodded.

“This is the governor’s house, so you’ll be paid much more than any of the other servants. You’ll get half a mark a day for the first fortnight. Then if it seems you’re working out, there’ll be an increase. Do you know how much a half mark is?”

“Five copper bits?” said Tisson hopefully.

“Oh goodness,” The human made the kind of wet spasming sound in her throat that Cissy would later come to know was the human form of laughter. “No dear. Fifty. Fifty copper bits. Do you understand the number fifty?”

Tisson nodded dully.

“I’ll come and get you in one hour,” the human turned and left them alone in the room.

“She’s coming back in ‘wuun hoor’,” said Tisson, straining to say the last two words in the language of the soft-skins.

“How long is that?” wondered Sirrek.

“I think it is how long you wait for fish before finding a different fishing spot.”

“What did she say about the copper bits?” asked Kheesie. “Do we get five each day?”

“No. Ten times that much.”

“For all of us?” wondered Sirrek.

“No. For each of us.”

“We are rich!” hissed Kheesie. “If we work here for a whole moon, we’ll each have a bag of copper bits as big as our heads. If we work here until the snow goes away and then comes again, we’ll be richer than Ssterrost or any of the chiefs. We’ll be richer than Ssithtsutsu.”

“Yes,” said Tisson, squinting with happiness.

“What was it you were going to say about our sleeping places?” asked Cissy. “Why do they put the males in one room and females in another?”

Tisson looked around as if checking for unwanted listeners.

“I don’t know if it is true or not,” he said. “But I have heard that the soft-skins do not have a season. They can mate all year round.”

“That’s disgusting,” said Sirrek.

“That can’t be right,” said Cissy. “Even the warm-blooded animals, the possum and the otter, they have a season. All animals have a season.”

“As I said, I don’t know if it is true or not,” Tisson replied. “I hear they keep the males and females apart so they don’t mate all the time. Otherwise there would be so many that they would have to eat their young.”

“Disgusting,” said Sirrek again.

“It explains why there are so many of them though,” said Kheesie. “Come Ssissiatok… Cissy. We will pick our sleeping places.”

An hour later found the four lizzies standing in the enclosed back porch with Mrs. Colbshallow. Tisson and Sirrek had each been given a medallion on a yellow ribbon, which they wore around their necks. Cissy and Kheesie both wore ridiculous little yellow skirts around their waists. The skirts were only about ten inches long, really just a little frill that fit around their middles, just above their tails.

“There are just six of us living here now,” said the lady. “I mean six humans. What is it you call us? Softies?”

“Soft-skins,” said Cissy. Tisson gave her an angry glance.

“Yes, that’s right. Soft-skins.” Lady made the spasming throat sound again. “That tickles me, I must say.

“Now there’s the governor. You know her. It’s best if you limit your communication with her to ‘yes’ and ‘no’. I know you can’t say ‘ma'am’, so yes and no will have to do, although you may say ‘yes sir’ to the gentlemen. Of course what I said for her is probably true of the governor’s husband, Professor Calliere. He’s the one who’s almost as tall as you Tisson. Now Master Terrence… it’s best if you don’t speak to him at all… or go anywhere near him... especially if he is cleaning his pistols. He's been doing that quite a lot lately. If you have any questions, come and talk to me or to Mrs. Godwin. She’s the other matron like me. We were both servants back in Brechalon. You understand, yes?”

The four lizzies nodded.

“Now the sixth person is little Iolana—the baby. Tomorrow I’ll begin teaching you two how to care for a human baby.” She pointed to Kheesie and Cissy. “But today we’re all going to learn how to prepare a luncheon. Follow me into the kitchen.”

“I don’t want to watch the human offspring,” whispered Kheesie.

“Why not?” wondered Cissy.

“They’re completely helpless—like worms.”

“That’s not what I would worry about,” said Sirrek. “You’ll be taking care of her offspring—the Matriarch's. Remember what she did to Suusthek.”

“That was the witch woman,” said Kheesie.

“The Matriarch told the witch woman to do it. She gave the order. Think what would happen to you if you damaged her offspring.”

“What are you all going on about?” asked the lady as they reached the kitchen. “Yes I heard you, even though my ears aren’t what they used to be.”

“Hoonan vavy,” said Cissy.

“Yes, well not to worry. Iolana is coming up on a year old now, so she’s not so delicate as a newborn. And I won’t leave you alone with her until I’m sure you are both capable and trustworthy. We humans are very protective of our children, as you’ll learn.”

The lizzies passed knowing looks back and forth.

“Now wash your hands in the sink and I’ll show you how to chop the vegetables.”

That night Kheesie and Cissy were alone in their room together. In the way of the people, they lay on their stomachs with their noses pointed toward the fire, their arms down to their sides.

“That work was not hard,” said Cissy.

“No,” agreed Kheesie. “But there is much to remember. I am still worried about taking care of the offspring.”

“I don’t think it will be all that difficult. You watch it and make sure the feathered runners do not eat it.”

“You are young and you have not lived among the soft-skins as Tissonisuk has,” said Kheesie. “How do you know their language so well?”

“The elder in my hut, Toss, traded with the soft-skins who visited here before. He learned their tongue and he used to teach it to us at night around the fire. He always said that the soft-skins would come back, but others in the tribe would not believe him.”

Kheesie hissed.

“Think of all the wealth we are going to have. It will make it all worthwhile.”

“Yes,” agreed Kheesie. “We will be rich even after we give Ssterrost his portion.”

“Maybe Ssterrost doesn’t need ours. He will be getting copper bits from many others. Maybe we could just stay here. Then we could keep all our copper bits.”

“Wouldn’t he come for us?”

“Would he?” asked Cissy. “I wonder.”

The second day Cissy and Kheesie were taught how to care for a human child. Mrs. Colbshallow had two cloth baby dolls with porcelain faces. Every time they were leaned backwards the little painted eyes closed. The two lizzies carried the dolls, being careful not to pull too hard on any one arm or leg. They learned to put the baby dolls into highchairs so that they could sit at the table with a human family. And they learned to wash the baby dolls and check them for ticks and other parasites. While they were thus engaged, Tisson and Sirrek and another lizzie who had been added to the staff learned their jobs, which seemed to consist mostly of standing around and opening an occasional door.

Four more lizzies were added to the staff the following day—all males. The entire group spent the day carrying trays of food and drinks from one room to another. In the early afternoon, the one they called the professor came home and Sirrek had his first chance to show off his skills by bringing the man a cup of tea on a tray. When he returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Colbshallow heaped praise upon him.

It was on their fourth day at the Dechantagne home that Cissy first saw the little human offspring. It was two or three times as large as the baby doll. It waddled around on two stubby little legs, barely able to walk one moment, and the next shooting across the room to run into a piece of furniture. Its movements were nothing like the graceful gliding of the adult humans. The child had big eyes and a little tiny mouth and a wild mass of fine golden curls atop its head. Another softskin female had brought the little thing to the house while she visited Mrs. Colbshallow. She never let the diminutive creature get very far away however and kept a wary eye on Cissy and the others.

The next morning the Mrs. Colbshallow began showing the lizzies how to keep the house clean. Quite a bit of dirt and mud had been brought into the house, which was still under construction. It also seemed that the human skin, instead of peeling off in nice large patches and strips, sloughed off in dusty flakes to collect all over everything, making frequent dusting necessary. But at mid-day, Mrs. Colbshallow called the entire group together.

“I have been told that we must bring all of you to the militia base.”

The twelve lizzies who worked at the Dechantagne house were guided by Mrs. Colbshallow and old Mrs. Godwin, who walked as slowly as the reptilians did, down the road and through the gate to the militia base. The previous two days had seen snowfall during the night—not enough to add much to the significant drifts along the sides of the road, but enough so that the road itself was covered with several inches. Once on the grounds of the base, they and hundreds of other lizzies from all over the colony were herded by soldiers past the long rectangular barracks to an open field. Here several hundred lizzie chairs, cut logs turned on end, were arranged in a semicircle. The lizardmen took their seats facing a raised wooden platform. Humans filled the area behind them.

It didn’t take long before every lizzie in the colony, and if not every human then certainly a good portion of them, were in their places and waiting. Then two lines of soldiers marched out from behind one of the buildings. They flanked four lizzies. It was difficult to make out anything about them at first, but when they reached the platform, they were pushed to the front for all of the audience to see. Their hands had been tied in front of them and their legs were hobbled. Their yellow eyes were dilated and rolling around this way and that. Then the Matriarch, the one the humans called the governor, and a very old lizzie stepped out onto the platform. The governor spoke and the lizzie translated to the language of the people.

“You are gathered here to witness the punishment for crimes committed by guests in this colony. As you must all learn: punishment follows swift on guilt. Prisoner Tacie, step forward.”

The first of the four reptilians on the platform was pushed forward by a soldier at each shoulder.

“The merits and evidence in this case, having been examined and weighed accordingly prior to this assembly, you have been found guilty of theft of property in the amount of six marks five p. By the authority vested in me by God and His Sovereign Majesty King Tybalt III, I sentence you to be flogged and to feel ten kisses of the lash. Sergeant at arms, carry out the sentence.”

The two soldiers pushed the lizzie off the platform and onto the grass in front of the audience where, here to fore unnoticed, a metal post with a crossbar had been driven into the ground. The ropes around Tacie’s feet were looped around this crossbar preventing him from moving. The softskin that Tisson had identified as the warrior Clark stepped down from the platform and unfurled a wicked looking whip, with a dozen different lashes hanging down about four feet, and a metal scourge at the end of each lash. Whipping it through the air, he brought it down of the lizardman’s back. The poor creature hissed in surprise and pain, but Clark brought the flog down again and again until he had hit Tacie ten times, leaving not ten stripes, but a wide path stripped of skin and bleeding profusely.

Bloody, staggering, and gurgling pitifully, Tacie was untied and led away.

“Prisoner Sash, step forward.” Cissy actually jumped at the sound of the governor’s voice.

The second lizzie, a large and very strong looking male, was brought to the front of the platform.

“The merits and evidence in this case, having been examined and weighed accordingly prior to this assembly, you have been found guilty of theft of property in the amount of nine marks seventy-two p. By the authority vested in me by God and His Sovereign Majesty King Tybalt III, I sentence you to be flogged and to feel twenty kisses of the lash. Sergeant at arms, carry out the sentence.”

Sash was brought down into the grass and tied to the crossbar sticking out of the ground. Clark went back to his bloody work, whipping the lizardman named Sash. Sash held up much better than Tacie had for the first ten strokes of the flail, but by the twentieth, his back looked more like raw meat than something that still had life within it. He had to be dragged away by four soldiers.

“Prisoner Zinty, step forward.” This lizzie was a female, just a bit older than Cissy. This time the soldiers didn’t just push her to the front of the platform. They brought her all the way down and fastened her where the others had been flogged and where now the grass was flecked with spots of blood.

“The merits and evidence in this case, having been examined and weighed accordingly prior to this assembly, you have been found guilty of assault and battery on a citizen of the United Kingdom of Greater Brechalon. By the authority vested in me by God and His Sovereign Majesty King Tybalt III, I sentence you to death. Sergeant at arms, carry out the sentence.”

Clark pulled the weapon from his belt and shot the lizzie in the head. He had done it so quickly and without compunction that the time between sentence and execution had actually been shorter than the time between the gunshot and Zinty’s body hitting the ground. There was silence for just a moment, and then a low deep gurgling growling noise began to rise from among the assembled lizardmen. It lasted only a moment, but it was long enough for the soldiers to grip their weapons.

Cissy couldn’t look at the body on the ground in front of her. She looked around at the assembled lizzies. Their eyes all showed fear. Then she glanced behind her, shocked to see how many soft-skins there were—at least a thousand, probably more. She looked at their faces. Some had their mouths open in surprise, though a few of them showed their teeth the way humans did when they were pleased. Most of them were simply inscrutable, their oddly expressive faces too complex to read.

“Prisoner Gorr, step forward.” This time, Cissy was not the only lizardman that jumped.

The lizzie, another female was brought, just as Zinty had been all the way to the grass and tied up. The soldiers had drug away the body of the previous prisoner, while Cissy had looked around, but now the grass was covered with blood and bits of brain. Gorr began to shake.

“The merits and evidence in this case, having been examined and weighed accordingly prior to this assembly, you have been found guilty of assault and battery on a citizen of the United Kingdom of Greater Brechalon…” The governor stopped and taking a deep breath sighed. “By the authority vested in me by God and His Sovereign Majesty King Tybalt III, your sentence of death is hereby commuted and you are sentenced to carry the mark of a malefactor. Sergeant at arms, carry out the sentence.”

The soldier Clark stood mute for a moment then said something to the governor and shrugged his shoulders. The governor said something back and Clark walked to one of the buildings. The audience, both human and lizzie waited silently. The soldier returned a minute later carrying an axe. He looked questioningly at the governor again, who held out her hands about a foot apart. Clark approached Gorr, and stepping around her placed his boot on the bottom of her tail, forcing it to the ground. As he raised the axe above his head, lizzies in the audience began to hiss and squirm. A few jumped to their feet. But when the axe came down, all were silent, except Gorr, who hissed out in pain as the bottom twelve or thirteen inches of her tail were severed.

Chapter Three: Marriage

Yuah Korlann turned away from the street and made her way up the stone walkway, through the large snow covered yard of the Dechantagne estate. In a way it seemed odd that she wasn’t living there. She had lived in one Dechantagne house or another all her life. She had grown up with the three Dechantagnes of this generation, gone to school with them, worked for them. She paused to hyperventilate for a moment before starting up the steps to the portico. She had a white fur coat over a new pale pink dress and a new, extra tight corset beneath that. Standing at attention outside of the front door was a lizardman, naked except for a yellow ribbon with a gold medallion around its neck. As she approached, the creature suddenly moved. She flinched, but it was only reaching back to open the door for her.

“Um, thank you,” she said, stepping hesitantly through the doorway.

Inside was a maze of boxes and furniture heaped up against the walls. She navigated through them and into the parlor, surprised to find it clear of any such obstructions. A large comfortable sofa and several stuffed chairs had been set up around a small table. There was even a hutch against the wall with a full bottle of sherry and several glasses upon a silver tray. A fire was burning in the fireplace. There was no drapery in place yet, but two large trees outside kept the light from being too harsh. Above the mantle was the only picture hanging in the room—a portrait of General Augustus Q. Dechantagne, the younger brother of Iolanthe’s and Terrence’s grandfather. “Good morning Yuah.”

Yuah turned to find Terrence standing in the doorway. He looked good. He had gained a bit of weight, though he was still too thin. He was neatly groomed and dressed in a black suit. His bandaged eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark spectacles. With his left hand, he held onto the doorframe. Terrence had been captured, tortured, and blinded in the lizzie city of Suusthek, along with Corporal Bratihn. Ordinarily a magic user of Zurfina's skill could have restored their sight, but they had been cursed by a lizzie witch doctor and there was no priest in the colony powerful enough to remove the curse.

“How did you know it was me?”

“The smell. With all those potions and lotions you use, it had to be either you or a group of a dozen other women. And since I didn’t hear any chattering, I decided it couldn’t be the latter.”

“Very astute. I was just admiring the portrait.”

“Great Uncle Augie, is it?”

“Yes. Isn’t he the one that… um…”

“Lost his manhood to a musket ball. Yes. I think Iolanthe is trying to send me a message, but I don’t know what it is.”

“I’m not certain I would want to know.”

Terrence made his way to the hutch, stepping confidently but following along the wall with his left hand.

“Brandy?”

“It’s way too early for me to drink,” replied Yuah.

“Fortunately, it’s not too early for me.” He poured himself a glass, his finger dipping over the lip of the glass so that he could tell when to stop pouring, and took a sip. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was hoping I could get you to take me somewhere. You really should get out.”

“Get out? I’ve just gotten in here.”

“You know what I mean. You’ve been cooped up inside, first in the apartment and now here, since the first snow fall.”

“Where do you propose that I take you? Birmisia isn’t exactly known for its lively social spots and it’s too bloody cold to do anything out of doors.”

“Well, we could take a stroll to Mr. Parnorsham’s Pfennig Store.”

“More lotions?”

“Notions actually,” Yuah replied pertly. “I need a bit of thread and a needle.”

“Of course you realize that you passed Mr. Parnorsham’s on the way over here.”

“Of course.”

He took another sip of his brandy, and then set the glass down next to the others. “I’ll have to get my greatcoat.”

While Yuah waited, she pulled a hand from her fur muff and primped her hair. Within five minutes Terrence had returned, dressed for cold weather. Yuah took him by the hand and led him through the mazes of boxes and furniture to the front door. The lizzie opened it just before they got there.

“What do you think about all these lizzies your sister is hiring,” she said as they made their way across the front yard.

“I prefer not to think of them at all.”

“Hmm.”

They reached the center of the road and began walking west toward the Town Square. The road was slightly slippery from the snow, which had over the past few nights turned into ice. There were no vehicles in Port Dechantagne, unless a wheelbarrow could be considered a vehicle, so the roads were often left to the vagaries of the weather. Yuah tucked her hands in around Terrence’s arm as though he was guiding her rather than the other way around.

“I went to the execution the other day,” she said.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know why I did it, but it was awful. There was so much blood, and that poor creature with her tail cut off.”

“What possessed you to go?” Terrence asked again. “I don’t understand why you would want to see that.”

“I didn’t want to see it! I don’t know why I went. I just wish that I hadn’t.”

“That’s one thing I don’t miss seeing.”

“Well, I can’t see how anyone or anything could have deserved that,” said Yuah. “Having the skin scourged off your back for a few marks?”

“You have to set an example,” said Terrence. “They will recover. The same can’t be said for Mrs. Gompers or that Wills fellow.”

“Yes, that was unfortunate about Mrs. Gompers. She just startled that lizzie and was badly bit for it. But who knows what Mr. Wills was doing to get clawed in the face? You can bet he was doing something that no decent person would do. That man should never have been allowed in the colony.”

“Well, I don’t know him,” said Terrence begrudgingly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Well, you can rest…” Terrence suddenly felt Yuah stiffen. She turned around to look behind her, and then came to a halt, halting him as well.

“What is it?”

“It’s those horrible birds. There’s a pack of them following us. I just saw one off to the left and there are two more behind us.”

“Velociraptors?”

“No, the bigger ones. The ones with the brown feathers.”

“Deinonychus. You can bet that if you see three, there are three around here that you can’t see.”

“Will they attack?”

“Maybe. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Terrence reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a .45 caliber revolver.”

“Wonderful,” said Yuah. “It’s enough I have to worry about killer birds. And now a blind man with a gun.”

“It’s not a gun. It’s a pistol,” said Terrence. “And I’m not going to shoot it. You are.”

“I can’t shoot a gun… a pistol.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through it.” He took her by the wrist and placed the revolver, handle first, into her small hand. “Where are they now?”

“Two are in the road about thirty feet back. I don’t see the one in the woods anymore.”

At that moment a squawk came from the woods to the left, and was answered by a similar call in the woods to the right.

“Well, we know they’re there. Hold the pistol in your right hand, and cup your left hand under the grip.”

Terrence stepped behind her and reached around to hold her hands in his. His body pressed against her backside so that her bustle collapsed inward and her dress ballooned out somewhat in front. She could feel his breath on her neck.

“Pick a target and line it up with the sight at the end of the barrel. Do you have it?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry. I have you. Do you have the bird lined up?”

“Yes.”

“Then gently squeeze. Don’t pull on the trigger. Just squeeze.”

There was a tremendous boom and a cloud of metallic smoke. The gun’s kick had pushed Yuah back, but Terrence’s body hadn’t moved. She leaned backwards into him.

“Did you hit it?”

Yuah opened the eyes that she hadn’t even realized she had closed.

“Oh, no. Now there are three of them.”

“Do you see any in the woods?”

She glanced to either side. “No.”

“How about behind us?”

“No. I hear something moving in the woods now though.”

“Yes, I hear it too. Let’s take aim again at the one we missed.”

“I don’t know which one it is.”

“Just aim at one Yuah.”

Yuah took aim down the barrel of the pistol at the deinonychus that was closest to the center of the road, and just as Terrence had instructed before, squeezed the trigger. Again there was a tremendous boom and a cloud of smoke. This time as the gun pushed her back, Yuah leaned into Terrence’s body. He didn’t move. The birdlike creature that she had aimed at was hit. Its chest exploded and it was flipped end on end.

“We got it,” said Yuah turning her head so that her face was only an inch from Terrence’s.

“Good,” he said, but made no move to take his arms from around her shoulders or to turn his face away from hers.

“Should we shoot another one?”

“I don’t know. What are the others doing?”

“The other two on the road are sniffing it. Wait… three more are coming out of the woods, but they’re not looking at us. Do you think they’ll eat their friend?”

“Maybe. Proper animals wouldn’t resort to cannibalism, but these Birmisian creatures… Let’s get out of here anyway. If they don’t decide to eat it, they might come after us yet. And something else might come along.”

Terrence unwrapped his arms from her and took the gun, putting it back in the pocket of his greatcoat. They continued down the road. As they walked, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Yuah looked back once to see that the deinonychus, now six, were still sniffing at their dead companion’s body.

“The tyrannosaurus is in the area, you know,” she said.

“So I’ve heard. I’m a little more concerned about utahraptors. They can come up on you a lot more quickly and more quietly than the big fellow, but they can take down a man just as fast.”

“They are pretty though, if you’re seeing them from far away.”

Just outside the Town Square, both sides of the road were fairly thick with workmen putting the finishing touches on several large houses. Yuah felt more secure. The deinonychus and their smaller cousins the velociraptors were too shy to come close to such a large group of humans. But Terrence took his arm from around her shoulders, instead wrapping her hand around his arm.

When they stepped into Mr. Parnorsham’s store, the bell on the door still ringing right above them, Yuah stopped so quickly that Terrence bumped into her.

“What is it?”

“It’s thick with lizzies in here.”

“How thick?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and listening.

“There are about a dozen. Mr. Parnorsham?” she called out.

“Be right with you, Miss,” called Mr. Parnorsham, looking around the massive body of a lizzie who was standing in front of his counter.

“It’s alright. Let’s go up to the counter,” Terrence told her, though she noticed he put his hand in his coat pocket.

She guided him up the aisle, past two lizzies, to stand next to the one that Mr. Parnorsham was trading with. The creature was evidently buying a pocketknife, which was sitting on the counter top next to a large stack of copper pfennigs.

“One mark five p,” said Mr. Parnorsham, and tapped his finger twice next to the stack of coins.

The lizzie set down another two pfennigs, one after the other.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said the proprietor.

“How much has he put down?” asked Terrence.

“He’s got ninety seven… now ninety nine pfennigs.”

Terrence reached out and tapped the counter six times. The lizzie placed six more copper coins next to those he had already piled up.

“There you go,” said the store owner.

He picked up the pocketknife and handed it to the reptilian. The creature took it and headed for the exit.

“What can I get for you, Captain?”

“Go see to your other customers. We’re going to… look around a bit.”

“They can wait.”

“It’s fine. Go ahead.”

Mr. Parnorsham wiped his hands on his white apron and then hurried off to the next lizzie.

“I can smell them in here,” said Terrence.

“I didn’t really think they had a smell,” Yuah replied.

“Not like us. They don’t sweat. But I can smell them anyway. It’s so very faint in here, but in Suusthek… in Suusthek…”

“You helped out that lizzie with his purchase…”

“It’s been my experience that the lizardmen are very honest, regardless of what my sister or her government does. They’re also not stupid. And I suppose it’s wrong to blame all of them for what a few did to me.”

“So you don’t hate them all…?”

“Yes I do, God damn it! I do hate all of them. It’s all I can do to keep from pulling this gun out of my pocket and shooting in every direction. If you weren’t here, I would! I swear to Kafira, I would!” Though Terrence’s voice had never become loud enough for anyone other than Yuah to hear, it rang forcefully in her ears.

She looked at him, while his breathing slowed, then she said. “You’d probably shoot Mr. Parnorsham.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not a gun.”

“I know.”

“It’s a pistol.”

“Yes.”

“You should probably keep it in your pocket,” she said.

“Always good advice.”

They stood quietly while Mr. Parnorsham finished trading with all the lizzies in the store, though just as he returned to them, the bell above the door rang and another group entered.

“So what may I do you for today, lady and gentleman?”

“I would like two number four needles and a one spool of thread each of azure, beryl, cerulean, cobalt, and ultramarine.”

Mr. Parnorsham pulled a small envelope from below the counter.

“The needles come three to a package now, but it’s the same price that we used to charge for two.” He walked to the notions counter and returned a moment later, setting the thread next to the package of needles. “Here you go—five spools of blue thread.”

Yuah squinted her eyes and examined the thread, sure that Mr. Parnorsham was either trying to cheat her or make fun of her, but the thread was all of the correct shades.

“Anything else?”

“Not for me, but I’m sure that Mr. Dechantagne is in need of a few things.”

“Captain?”

“I need a tin of shaving powder, whatever kind you think best, and a bottle of Brill-Hair.”

“Very good, sir.” Mr. Parnorsham returned with the items. “Anything else?”

“I also want two jars of Major Frisbie’s green tomato chutney.”

Mr. Parnorsham paused. “Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it’s just that your sister doesn’t purchase it. I understand that Mrs. Colbshallow is the official condimentarian, if you will.”

“My sister isn’t here to purchase it. I am.”

“Of course, sir. No disrespect implied.” Mr. Parnorsham retrieved two jars of the chutney from a small stack just inside his large front windowpane. “That will be twenty five p for the lady and let’s see… two marks seventy.”

“That’s roadside robbery,” said Terrence, sounding disgusted.

“Now that hurts, Captain.” And Yuah noted that Mr. Parnorsham did indeed look as though his feelings were hurt. “You know the cost of shipping products all the way from Brechalon. If anyone knows, you should.”

“Yes, he knows,” said Yuah. “Don’t mind him. He’s just in a mood because of all the lizzies here and at his home.”

“Mmm. Oh!” Recognition suddenly rolled across the shopkeeper’s face. “Well, yes I see… of course. You know, I could do without their scaly faces myself. I keep thinking they’re going to open up those great mouths and bite me, like Mrs. Gompers.”

“I have just the thing for you,” said Yuah, and reaching into Terrence’s pocket, she pulled out the large nickel-plated revolver and made as if to hand it to Mr. Parnorsham.

“Hey,” said Terrence. “That’s a family heirloom.”

“Oh, pish posh. You bought that in Brech before we set sail on the Minotaur. And you’ve got at least two more just like it.”

“Oh, that’s a fine weapon,” said Mr. Parnorsham, making no move to take it. “Too much gun for me though.”

He reached under the counter and pulled out a small black pistol. He pressed a button on the side and a clip full of bullets dropped from the handle. After pulling back the action to empty the chamber, he held out the weapon for Terrence.

“What do you think of that, Captain?”

Terrence held out his hand and the shopkeeper placed the pistol in it. He ran his fingers over the smooth lines and sharp edges of the black steel.

“Automatic? Never cared for them myself. What is it—a Tycho Mather C-21?”

“Mather 17,” said Mr. Parnorsham proudly. “Freedonian naval officer’s sidearm.”

“7.65 millimeter?”

“That’s right.”

“How do you get ammunition for it?”

“I have two boxes. More than enough for me. I shot off six rounds to try it out and a dozen more when the lizzies attacked. The rest I’m saving for robbers.”

Terrence handed back the pistol, and then reached out to find his own still in Yuah’s hand. He took it and put it back into the pocket of his greatcoat. He took Yuah’s arm and gently pulled in the direction of the front door. She quickly grabbed their packages from the counter.

“Wait just a moment before you go,” said Mr. Parnorsham. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Turning, he whipped away a cloth that covered a small mechanical device with a wind-up handle on the side. Yuah had seen one before. It was a music player. A wax cylinder sat atop the box which, when wound, would turn the cylinder while a needle ran along grooves in it, producing sound. Mr. Parnorsham furiously cranked the small handle and then moved a small arm over until the end of it rested on the now spinning cylinder.

“I’ve had this for a while now, but I only just got the recording,” he said as music started to emanate from the small machine, followed by a high-pitched man’s voice.

Honey cakes,

My sweet honey cakes,

Honey cakes, I love you sooo-oo—ooh.

You’re more than cream in my tea,

When I see you I cry whee!

Honey cakes, don’t you ever gooo-oo-ooh.

“How lovely,” said Yuah, as Terrence pulled her gently toward the door. “We must be on our way now. Thank you for sharing that.”

“Appalling,” said Terrence, outside the shop door. “All the music in the world, and that’s what they decide to record for posterity.”

“You could call me honey-cakes, if you wanted to,” said Yuah, her mouth very close to his ear.

“You’re too skinny to be any kind of cake at all.”

Yuah started walking, rather too fast, and Terrence was pulled along at her side.

“This isn’t the right direction.”

“That depends upon where one is going,” she replied.

“We’re going through the gate and out onto the peninsula.”

“Yes. How can you tell?”

“The smell.”

“Does it smell bad?” Yuah asked. “I can’t tell.”

“It just smells like people.”

Just beyond the gate were the first houses that had been built in Port Dechantagne—small one or two room homes for the most part. Beyond those on the left were row upon row of one and two story apartment buildings where the bulk of the population lived. On the right was the militia base.

“Where are we going?” Terrence asked.

“City Hall.”

“Why do we want to go there?”

“I want to say hello to my father.”

“I meant ‘why do I want to go there’?”

“It’s good for you to be seen.”

They walked across the grounds of the base toward the temporary City Hall, which was nothing more than a converted barracks building. Though there were a few who called out a greeting, such as “Hello Captain”, Yuah was unhappy to see that most of the people they passed just stared at the woman leading the blind man. Terrence was silent as they crossed the militia grounds and Yuah had the impression that he somehow knew that people were watching them. When they reached the door of the roughly made twenty-five by two hundred foot building with a small painted sign identifying it as their destination, he suddenly stopped and took her by the elbow.

“Do you still want to marry me?” he asked.

“I don’t recall ever saying that I wanted to marry you in the first place.”

“You said that you loved me.”

“That’s not really the same thing, now is it?”

“Don’t you want to marry someone you love?” he asked.

“I want to marry someone who loves me,” she replied.

“We could have your father do it right now. He’s the mayor.”

“Why do you suddenly want to get married?” asked Yuah. “You’ve never shown two figs of interest in marrying me, or anyone else come to that.”

“I’m a blind man. There’s not a lot I can do…”

“You are going to get your sight back. It’s just a matter of time until we have the curse lifted.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, I can still provide for a family. I’m on my way to being disgustingly rich. You could be rich with me. And if you have six or eight children, you might even plump up enough.”

“What about religion?”

“I don’t care about that.”

“How would we raise the children… I mean, if there were any?”

“However you want. I leave that entirely up to you.”

She looked at him with one eyebrow cocked.

“I can’t appreciate the look you’re giving me,” he said. “I’m blind.”

“You still haven’t said that you love me.”

“Is that a deal breaker?”

“Yes,” Yuah said, rather forcefully. “It most certainly is.”

“I love you then,” said Terrence.

“Oh, this is stupid!” she shouted, pulling her arm from his grasp. “You’re playing some game with the poor little Zaeri maid.”

“I’m not.”

“We’ll see,” she said, taking him by the arm and opening the door.

She pulled him into the small room inside and past her father’s pinch-faced secretary, despite the beginnings of protestations coming from the woman’s surprised face. She opened the door to the office beyond and found her father sitting at his desk, surveying a series of papers laid out side by side. He looked up, his face shifting from one of surprise to one of pleasure.

“Yuah, how lovely…”

“Papa, we want you to marry us,” Yuah interrupted.

“Muh, muh, muh…”

“Right now.”

Zeah Korlann stood up from behind his desk.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“What? Why not?” Yuah demanded.

“Um, well… I was hoping to make a better match for you.” Her father shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“You’re not likely to find a better match, Papa. They’re practically royalty. You know that better than anyone. Our family has worked for them for generations.”

“He means that I’m not good enough for you,” said Terrence.

“That’s not what he means,” said Yuah. “That’s not what you mean, is it, Papa?”

“Well, yes it is. And of course there is the question of religion…”

“It’s been settled,” said Yuah.

“You’re too young to get married,” said Zeah.

“I’m almost twenty-seven!” shouted Yuah, with a slight edge of hysteria to her voice. “I’m already an old maid! If I wait any longer, my insides will shrivel up and blow away!”

Zeah stared at his daughter for a moment, watching her flushed face as she gulped for air, her corset and her excitement combining to take her very close to a swoon. Then he looked at Terrence, searching his face for some inkling of motivation.

“I can’t appreciate his look either,” said Terrence to Yuah.

“There’s no hurry,” Zeah said at last. “Why don’t you plan a spring wedding? We can have it done right. A big wedding. Everyone will want to be there.”

“We are doing it now,” said Yuah. “There is no Zaeri Imam, so you have to do a civil ceremony. If you won’t, we’ll go and have Brother Galen marry us under Kafira’s watchful eyes.”

“We need a best man and a maid of honor.”

“You can have your secretary stand in, and get one of the soldiers outside to be the best man. We don’t care who it is. Anyone would be proud to stand up for a Dechantagne.”

Zeah took a deep breath and stepped close to Terrence. “You must take care of her.”

“She will always be provided for,” said Terrence, though it sounded to no one in the room as if they meant the same thing.

It was only a few minutes later when Zeah unhappily began the civil marriage ceremony for his daughter and Terrence Dechantagne. The two of them were framed on either side by Zeah’s secretary Cadence Gertz and young Saba Colbshallow. There wasn’t much to it, really. He asked Terrence if he would love and cherish, and then he asked Yuah if she would honor and obey. They both replied, “I will”.

“I don’t suppose you have a ring?” he asked.

“That’s our next stop,” said Terrence.

Then it was over. He recorded the date on the certificate and all five of them signed it. Oddly, as everyone filed out the door, only Miss Gertz looked really happy.

Though he had yet to move into his shop, Mr. Vever had been for some time working from his home, a small single room house just inside the great wall about half way between the gate and the eastern beach. Here he cut gems and crafted jewelry, occasionally working on watches, though that was not his specialty. He opened his door to find Yuah and Terrence on his front step.

“Mr. Dechantagne, what a surprise,” he said, motioning them inside. “And Miss Korlann, it is always a pleasure to see the most beautiful woman in Birmisia.”

“Back off Vever,” drawled Terrence. “That’s Mrs. Dechantagne now. We’ve just been married.”

The little man squinted through his spectacles at first one of them and then the other and then back again.

“Funny,” he said. “You two don’t look like newlyweds… Well, what do I know? Come in. Come in.”

“Thank you,” said Terrence, as they stepped inside. “We’re here to buy a ring.”

Yuah began to feel a bit faint and looking around saw a small chair near the door, which she dropped down onto it, sitting sideways so as not to damage her bustle. She waved off Mr. Vever’s concerned look.

“Um, well, what type of ring were you looking for?”

“We need a pair of wedding rings,” said Terrence. “Fourteen karat, I should think. Simple but stylish. Not too big. I don’t suppose we need an engagement ring...”

“We bloody well do,” said Yuah.

“Right. We need an engagement ring too. With the biggest diamond that you’ve got.”

“Well, you might be surprised at just what I have. Wait just a moment.” Mr. Vever stepped to the back of the room and began turning the combination lock on a safe the size of an icebox, which sat against the far wall.

“We shouldn’t waste our money,” said Yuah.

“Five minutes married and already it’s our money,” said Terrence dryly.

“Here we go,” said Mr. Vever, closing the safe and stepping back to Terrence with a small velvet-covered box in hand. Yuah stood up once again to look. “I purchased this stone from a lizzies trader. I paid him quite well, because I’m hoping to get more. I cut it and finished mounting it just last month. I was planning on having it shipped back to Brech. I didn’t think anyone here would be in the market for something this lavish or… well, this expensive. If it’s too much just say so, and I will understand completely.”

Yuah looked as the jeweler opened the small box to reveal a golden ring with a very, very large diamond set amid several small rubies.

“Good God,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to lift up my arm with that on my finger.”

Terrence reached out his hand and Mr. Vever maneuvered the box into his reach. He pulled out the ring and rolled it around in his fingers.

“Look how it catches the light,” said Yuah.

“How big is it?” wondered Terrence.

“The diamond is six and one quarter karats.”

“Kafira Kristos,” Yuah said in a whispered voice, then put a hand to her mouth as she realized she was blaspheming in the wrong religion. “Well, I mean… It’s bigger than the Queen’s diamond.”

“No, not really,” said Mr. Vever, who was in a position to know such things. “I believe her engagement ring has a twenty-two karat diamond in a marquis cut. But this is an exceptional stone, both in size and in clarity.”

“And how much do you think you can get for it in Brech?” asked Terrence.

“In its setting, I should think over one hundred thousand marks.”

“We’ll make it an even ninety thousand and save you the cost of shipping and the trouble of finding a broker in Brechalon,” said Terrence. “Do you have a receipt for me to sign?”

He turned around and took Yuah’s hand, sliding the ring on it.

“It is much lighter than it appears,” she said.

Outside the jeweler’s door, she pulled her left hand out of her muff and looked at it.

“You can’t afford to spend a hundred thousand marks on a ring, can you?” she asked.

“You have no idea,” said Terrence. “You’ve just become a very wealthy woman.”

“But one hundred thousand marks. That’s almost a million.”

“Iolanthe received fifty thousand marks last week as good faith money from Lenahan Norich. And he’s just the first. Merchant and Shannon, Pearce, Hallbourgh, Thurnby they’re all snooping around, looking to invest. In five years I’ll be able to completely cover you in jewels.”

“I don’t need any more jewelry… not that I wouldn’t accept any. That would be rude, after all. It might be nice to be able to buy some new dresses though.”

“Anything you want.”

An hour later they were back in the Dechantagne home, having seen no deinonychus, nor any other of the many frightening species of Birmisia, on their way home. They did spy the bloody spot in the snow where they had encountered them before, but there were no remains of the one killed and those living had apparently moved on. Once inside, they made their way to the parlor to find Terrence’s sister, Colonial Governor Iolanthe Dechantagne-Calliere in a sharp black and white day dress, warming herself by the fire.

“You did what?” said Iolanthe.

“We married,” said Terrence.

“Each other?”

“Yes.”

The shocked look on Iolanthe’s face was not too far from what Yuah had expected, though one could never be too sure what Iolanthe’s reaction to anything might be. All in all, she would have gladly postponed the announcement for… well, forever. But to her complete surprise, the look of shock turned to a sly smile, which slowly spread over her new sister-in-law’s face.

“Very good,” said Iolanthe. “Very good. This really is excellent.”

“Really?” said Terrence.

“Yes, of course. You need someone after all, don’t you?” She stepped forward and enveloped Yuah in a great hug, pressing cheek to cheek. “You’ll move into the house right away, of course. You know I’ve always thought of you as a sister.”

Yuah didn’t know which of those two sentences frightened her more.

Chapter Four: Private Eamon Shrubb

Saba Colbshallow sat on a piece of log. It was one of many which had been provided for local lizzies to sit. His left hand was full of small pebbles and he was tossing them with his right hand at a half rusted tin that had originally held butter biscuits. Most of the thrown missiles missed their mark and even when one did land in the tin it didn’t improve his mood. He had been in a bad mood for an entire week now, ever since the wedding. Could you call that a wedding? Five minutes in the Mayor’s office? Yuah deserved much better than that. She deserved much better than Master Terrence too. Saba wanted to say that she deserved him, but he knew that he wasn’t good enough for her either. She was an angel. He had loved her ever since he was seven. Then she had been a burgeoning sixteen-year-old beauty, with long dark brown hair and the most incredible eyelashes. Of course before that, he had fancied Iolanthe, now Governor Dechantagne-Calliere. But that was before she had changed. Not that he blamed her; he understood. Iolanthe was married, and now Yuah was too. And here he was, an eighteen-year-old corporal in the militia, and didn’t even have a girl.

“Colbshallow, right?”

Saba looked up to see a big man standing a few feet from him. Saba was six foot three and this fellow was just as tall, but with broader shoulders and a thick muscular chest. Though the man was a few years older than Saba, he was only a private.

“That’s right.”

“I’m Shrubb, Eamon Shrubb.”

“Nice to meet you, Shrubb.” Saba slowly stood up and stretched out a hand, which Shrubb took.

“What’s your Kafirite name, if you don’t mind my asking?” asked Shrubb. “Um… you are a Kafirite, aren’t you?”

Saba nodded.

“I’ve never seen so many zeets before.”

“I don’t much care for that word,” said Saba, icily. He was still thinking about Yuah and was predisposed to dislike anyone whom he thought might be aiming an insult even in her general direction.

“Quite right. Quite right. As I say, I’ve never met many zee… Zaeri. I don’t have anything against them though. I never understood that whole ‘killed Kafira’ thing anyway. I mean, didn’t she come back from the dead? That’s a big part of the church. How could she have come back from the dead if nobody killed her? All worked out for the best, as far as I can see.”

“Do you always talk this much?” asked Saba.

“No.” Shrubb looked pensive. “Quite uncharacteristic really.”

“Good. My first name is Saba. What would you say to some fish and chips?”

“I don’t generally talk to my food.”

“Come on.”

Saba led the way across the dirty patches of snow that still covered the militia grounds, stepping over the low fencing, and out into the gravel street. Then they started down the hill on Seventh and One Half Avenue toward the docks. The street was lined on either side with workshops and warehouses. Most of the workshops had open fronts and one could peer in as one passed to watch men working at lathes, saws, and other pieces of equipment. Most of the warehouses on the other hand had their massive doors closed, as there was no ship in the port at the moment.

“So, you’re a new arrival, are you?” asked Saba.

“That’s right. Arrived two weeks ago on the Jaquesville.”

“Family?”

“No. Left home when I was just a lad. I was working on the docks in the city and heard about opportunity.”

At the bottom of the hill the road ended at the broad expanse of the dockyard. Though there was little work to be done here, there were several gangs of lizzie dock workers who were being trained by their human foremen so that they would be ready for the arrival of the next big transport. Saba kept up with the ship schedules from boredom as much as anything else, so he knew the next arrival was supposed to be the S.S. Windermere on or about the twenty-ninth.

“So, you’ve been here since the beginning?” asked Shrubb.

“That’s right.”

“I was told you were the one to ask about things.”

“Who told you that?” wondered Saba.

“Willy Cornish.”

“Oh, well. As long as you don’t ask him about anything, you’ll be fine.”

In the center of the dockyard, two food carts had been set up and several patrons were queued up to purchase their lunches. Mrs. Gopling sold some very nice smoky sausages from her stand and Mr. Kordeshack sold fish and chips from his. Just this week, the Finkler boy had begun setting up his own cart to sell tea and biscuits, but he had not as yet arrived this morning. When the ships came in, these three carts would be joined by another: Mr. Darwin selling locally made leather products. Saba and his new companion stepped into the fish and chips queue and waited their turn.

“What will you have?” asked Mr. Kordeshack, a man of middle years with thin hair but bushy side whiskers.

“How about cod?” replied Shrubb.

“Um... we haven’t any.”

“How about a lovely haddock?”

Mr. Kordeshack shrugged. “Only Birmisian fish.”

“What do you have today?” asked Saba.

“We have some Birmisian swordfish. If you’ve eaten swordfish before, it tastes very much the same, though they don’t look much alike when they’re swimming. We have fillets of some of these common small fish that people are calling ‘clubbies’. It’s very nice and flaky. Then we have Xiphactinus, which is a bit like tuna.”

“I’ll have the clubbie,” said Saba.

“Me too,” said Shrubb.

Mr. Kordeshack handed each of the militiamen a large cone made of newsprint and filled with crispy golden chips, topped with three small battered fish fillets. They found a pair of crates next to one of the dock building and sat down to enjoy their meals. Dozens of workers from the nearby shops were now making their way to the food carts for lunch. About half of them chose fish and chips and about half of them chose Mrs. Gopling’s sausages. The Finkler boy pushed his cart out next to the other two. It was covered with breads and small cakes.

“So… the lizzies,” said Shrubb. “Trouble?”

“Can be.” Saba took another bite of fish. He noticed that Shrubb was already down into the chips. “Fast eater.”

“Boarding house,” said Shrubb. “Never lived by yourself?”

“Um… no. I grew up in the Dechantagne house. My mother was the cook.”

“The governor?”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s a tidy looking lady,” opined the private.

“Um… yes, I suppose.”

“You fancy her,” said Shrubb, turning to look at Saba head on.

“No I don’t.”

“Sure you do. I’ve seen that look on many a young man’s face.”

“And you’re so old and wise then?” asked Saba.

Shrubb shrugged. “She’s a bit scary though, eh?”

“Not really,” said Saba.

“I told you you fancied her. What about the mayor?”

“I don’t fancy him either.”

“But you know him?”

“Sure,” admitted Saba, after taking the last bite of his fish. “Mr. Korlann is a really decent man. He used to be the governor's head butler, back in Brechalon. He was always looking out for us kids. He’s a Zaeri, by the way.”

“You know the sorceress?” Shrubb continued.

“I wouldn’t say that I know Zurfina, but I’ve seen quite a bit of her.”

“The stories about her are exaggerated, aren’t they?”

“Actually the stories I’ve heard have been toned down a bit,” mused Saba. “You don’t see her anymore though. She doesn’t come out of that tall house of hers.”

“Isn’t that her over there then?” Shrubb pointed across the dockyard.

Sure enough, Zurfina the Magnificent was striding across the open space. She could manage a gait that no other woman in the colony could, because she was unencumbered by clothing in a way that no other woman would have dared. She had on a long-sleeved black fur coat that ended at her mid-thigh. Whatever skirt she wore beneath it could not have been very long, for it did not peek out at all, but left the remainder of her thighs bare except for the suspenders that held up her black fishnet stockings. The high-heeled boots on her feet only reached up to mid-calf, so almost all of her legs were exposed to the elements—and to everyone’s gaze. Her hair, long the last time that Saba had seen it, was now hacked short and sticking up in every direction, rather like a dandelion gone to seed. This minimized a small bald spot over her right ear.

Three feet behind the sorceress, skipping, was her apprentice Senta. She wore a heavy coat, below which a black dress kind of ballooned around her and came down to her shins, exposing her black and white socks. In her hand she carried a doll dressed just like her. Three feet behind her trailed the dragon. Even though it was not particularly sunny, the steel colored scales of the creature glinted as it moved along the ground. So graceful was its stride that its eight-foot length seemed to flow like a river. Though Saba could not say that he knew Zurfina, he did know Senta. When the girl saw him, she turned and skipped in his direction, while Zurfina continued on her way. The dragon looked from one to the other and back again, and at last followed the girl.

“Hey Saba,” said Senta, when she reached him.

“Hey Senta.”

The dragon came to a stop beside her and looked up at the faces of the two men. Its eyes were as steely colored as its scales. Shrubb subtly shifted away from the dragon without getting up from his seat.

“Hey Saba,” said the dragon.

“Um, hello dragon.”

“His name is Bessemer,” said the girl.

“Okay. So what are you up to? We don’t see Zurfina very often—I was just saying.”

“She’s seeing a man about some furniture.”

“What kind of furniture?” asked Shrubb, though his interest still seemed focused entirely on the dragon.

The dragon’s attention in turn, was focused on him. It sniffed around his feet and a thin forked tongue flicked out onto his pant legs.

“Dog,” it said suddenly.

“Do you have a dog?” asked Saba.

Dogs were an interesting topic in Birmisa. There weren’t very many of them and everybody seemed to want one. Of those few that had made the long and expensive trip from Sumir, quite a few had been eaten by the predators that sometimes invaded the town. Much the same was true for cats.

“I did have a dog,” replied Shrubb. “I couldn’t bring him with me though. Had to leave him in Brech. Surely he can’t smell him on me. I didn’t even have this uniform till I got here.”

“How about your boots?” asked Senta.

Recognition crossed the private’s face and he nodded in appreciation.

“Quite the sharp little chap, aren’t you,” he said to the dragon.

“Sharp,” agreed the dragon. Then turning his head sharply around, he announced, “Fina.”

Zurfina was indeed headed in their direction, marching along the dockyard with her peculiarly swift stride. As the three humans and the dragon watched, she walked past a line of lizardman workers. Suddenly one of the lizzies, one which she had just passed without a look, dived for her back. A steel knife, glinting in the sunlight, was clearly visible in the reptilian’s clawed hand. Shrubb was quick enough to shout out a warning, but no one was quick enough to do anything else. There was a bright flash and a loud bang. The lizzie went flying backwards, while Zurfina turned, with a look of surprise on her face to see what had happened. Saba and Shrubb both ran to the scene, while Senta and the dragon followed. A human dockworker reached the now prostrate lizzie before them, but curiously, the other lizzies suddenly became very scarce.

“Are you alright?” Saba asked the sorceress.

“Of course,” she replied in her sultry voice. Then she batted her eyelashes at him. “Thank you for asking, you delicious boy.”

Saba turned away somewhat nervously to peer toward Shrubb, who was now bending down over the fallen reptilian. A large pool of red blood was spreading out across the gravel.

“What is your name?” Zurfina’s voice was right by Saba’s ear, making him shiver.

“Um, it’s Saba. We’ve met before. I was on the Minotaur with you.”

“Really? Were you as scrumptious looking then?”

“Leave him alone Fina,” said Senta from behind them. “He’s only a biscuit older than I am.”

“So what happened to the lizzie?” asked Saba, still looking at Zurfina.

“He’s been stabbed ten times, I expect,” said Senta.

“..nine, ten. That’s right,” said Shrubb. “How did that happen?”

“Magic,” said Zurfina slowly, before turning to walk away.

“She’s got protective magic,” explained Senta. She made her voice low. “They will suffer their attacks ten-fold.” Then she broke into a coughing fit.

“Should I call somebody?” wondered the dock foreman.

“Like who?” asked Saba.

The man shrugged.

“Find your lizzies and have them dispose of the body.”

“Tootle pip,” said Senta to Saba, no longer coughing.

“Do you have that magical protection?” Saba asked her.

“Who’d want to hurt me? I’m just a little kid.” With a wave, she skipped away after her mistress.

“I’m just a little kid,” said the dragon, reminding Saba that he was still there.

He looked down at the beautiful beast.

“Fish pot pie,” said the dragon. Then before any of the men could react, it had shot into the air like an artillery shell. Spreading its wings, it circled the dockyard twice and then sped off to the north, the opposite way from the sorceress and her apprentice.

The next day was squad training, so Saba was quite busy. The following day though was free time. He was just heading out the door of the barracks when he was again intercepted by Private Shrubb.

“Where are you off to then?”

“Um, did I tell you that we were to meet up today?”

“No,” said Shrubb. “But it seems that interesting things happen around you.”

“Well that’s true,” admitted Saba. “But I’m just going to see my mother this morning.”

“And she lives with the governor?”

Saba scratched his head. “Alright then, come along.”

After leading the way to the great gate, Saba cut left, taking Eamon down the hill to the eastern beach. This long, wide, sandy strip of land divided the sea from the mighty trees that stared off into its vastness. The western coast of the peninsula faced the protection of Crescent Bay, whose waters were almost always as smooth as glass. Here on the east side, even on calm days heavy waves would come crashing—and this was not a calm day. Banks of mighty waves gave testimony to a storm coming in from the north.

“Winter seems awfully long here in Birmisia,” said Shrubb.

Saba was about to respond noncommittally, when a print in the sand stopped him short. It was a giant three-toed print of a tyrannosaurus, and it had been made recently. It was part of a trail that led out of the woods just to their right and continued down the length of the beach in the same direction they were walking. Saba looked up and down the beach and scanned through the trees, but there seemed to be no sign of the monster. Seven or eight hesperonychus, built like miniature velociraptors but covered in hairy brown feathers with bright blue heads, ran along in a line picking small mollusks out of the surf. Of course they were just as likely to be out if the tyrannosaurus was present, being for all practical purposes too small to eat.

“Should we head into the trees?” asked Shrubb, still staring at the three foot long print.

“Not unless we have to. The brush is pretty thick along here and there’s been a flock of deinonychus about. Up ahead there’s an iguanodon trail.”

They continued up the beach, being much more careful than they had been. About a half mile beyond where they had first come upon the tyrannosaurus prints, they cut right, following the wide pathway that led through the trees. The giant claw prints continued their way down the beach.

Even on the relatively wide path, the trees seemed to close in around them. Between the shelter of the giant redwoods and the gloomy cast of the clouds overhead, the light that managed to reach ground level put one more in mind of dusk than of mid-morning. All about them, strange birds chirped and squawked, though for the most part they remained unseen. A single microraptor, one of Birmisia’s bizarre four winged birds, shot from one tree to another.

“With all the new arrivals, I guess it won’t be long before this area is all covered with houses,” said Shrubb.

“Not this area,” replied Saba, pointing first to his right and then his left. “For about one hundred yards in this direction and about two hundred in that, from the shore to the road; twenty acres and it’s all mine.”

“Your kidding? This is prime real estate. Why… the governor’s home is almost right across the street.”

“You’re telling me.”

“How?”

“Services rendered,” Saba looked at Shrubb’s perplexed face. “In the early days… fighting the lizzies.”

“You must be some hero or I guess the governor really is generous.”

“She is. Not that she would have given me this particular bit of land, at least not without some outside influence. I’m sure Mayor Korlann and my mother had more than a little to do with it. But she did originally offer me one hundred acres just southwest of town, not too far from Zurfina’s tower. I knew that this land would be more valuable though.”

They followed the path until it intersected with the gravel road. About one hundred yards to their right was the carriage gate of the Dechantagne estate. The stately structure looked complete, its large portico supported by four two story columns now painted, and the double gabled roof now tiled. Smoke poured from all fourteen stone chimneys, hanging low in the air as the clouds dropped down to meet it.

As the two soldiers made their way up the steps, the lizardman majordomo opened the door for them, but watched them carefully with his deep yellow eyes. Inside they doffed their greatcoats and made their way into the parlor. There was no one there, but before they had time to think on this, another lizardman entered, this one wearing a short yellow frill just above its tail.

“Yew Sada,” said the reptilian.

“Huh?”

“Yew Sada.”

“Your name, mate,” said Shrubb. “It's trying to say your name.”

“Huh? Oh yeah. Sab… well, kind of difficult to say without lips, isn’t it?”

“Cissy get lady,” said the lizardman, and turning around, disappeared through the doorway through which it had come.

“Fine,” said Saba, turning to look at Shrubb. “Depending of course on which lady she gets…”

A moment later though the reptile returned with his mother following close behind.

“There’s my handsome boy,” she said, grasping him around his middle. “You’re just in time for luncheon, you know. Who’s your friend?”

“Mother, may I introduce Private Shrubb?”

Mrs. Colbshallow gave Shrubb just as large a hug as she had given her son.

“Come, come,” she said. “We’re just setting out the table.”

She led them through the hallway out into the spacious dining room. Four or five lizzies were setting platters on the table, each of which was heaped with food: steak and kidney pie, sausage and onion sandwiches, cheddar and chutney sandwiches, tomato and pickled corn salad, and not one but two mountainous platters of golden chips.

“Kafira blimey,” said Shrubb, appreciatively.

“Exactly how many are you expecting for lunch?” asked Saba.

“Well, there is always someone who needs feeding,” replied the former cook, knowingly. “Cissy, call all the others to luncheon please.”

There were no empty chairs around the massive dining room table, though of course it was large enough that at least three or four more place settings could have been added without compromising the elbow room of the diners. Terrence Dechantagne sat at the head of the table, while his new wife Yuah sat just to his right. The new Mrs. Dechantagne was wearing a beautiful day dress that would have rivaled anything in the Governor’s closet, surely. Next to her was Mrs. Colbshallow, and then Saba, and to his right, Eamon Shrubb. To Terrence’s left was his brother-in-law Merced Calliere, then the governor who of course was Terrence’s sister and Calliere’s wife. To her left was old Mrs. Godwin, the former maid from the Dechantagne home in Shopton. And next to Mrs. Godwin was a young man in a charcoal grey suit. Saba had never seen him before.

Saba didn’t pay too much attention to the conversation, which had followed the others into the dining room from whichever household location they had come. He was more interested in getting a cheddar and chutney sandwich before they were all gone. His mother was justly famous for her chutneys—onion and garlic, lime, cocoanut and mango, eggplant and lemon. There was nothing better than one of her sweet fruit chutneys—apple, peach, or recently mango—paired with aged cheddar on her homemade bread.

“This isn’t your bread,” he said almost involuntarily after taking a bite.

“No dear, I bought two very nice five-pound loaves from Mrs. Finkler and Son, though this chutney and many other jars full are still part of our provender.” She raised her voice, directing it toward the far end of the table, but no one there seemed to be listening to her.

“What do Merchant or Shannon know about coal anyway?” said Professor Calliere.

“I dare say they use enough of the stuff,” replied Terrence.

“I hear that Alistair Merchant is as randy as an old goat,” said Mrs. Godwin.

Shrubb snorted into his beer. Saba looked down the table at Governor Dechantagne-Calliere. He half expected her to give the old woman a stiff elbow in the side, but all she did was narrow her eyes and purse her lips.

“Um, yes, well we can afford to wait for the best offer at least,” said Calliere. He was speaking to his brother-in-law, but it was his wife who answered.

“I shall wait exactly long enough to receive the offer I want.” She turned and smiled. “Mr. Streck needn’t hear us squabbling about it.”

The man in the charcoal suit, apparently Mr. Streck, nodded in recognition, but didn’t speak.

Silence reigned for several moments until at last Yuah Korlann… Yuah Dechantagne broke it. “What is the news from town, Saba?”

Saba was caught up for just a second by the sound of Yuah saying his name. He had always liked his name when she said it. Then he realized that by not answering he was drawing attention to himself. And by the time he realized that, everyone at the table was looking expectantly at him.

“Um, nothing really. Well, a lizzie tried to murder Zurfina.”

“That is newsworthy,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “She hardly ever comes out of that house of hers.”

“The lizzie is dead,” Saba added.

“That would only be news if it were not the case,” said the governor.

It took Saba a few seconds to realize that she was speaking to him. Though she had done so on more than a few occasions in the past, after all, he had lived in her house, it had never been in such a conversational way. Now that he thought about it though, he couldn’t remember a situation where they had ever sat down together.

“Yes ma'am,” he said.

“The real news is that the tyrannosaurus is about this morning,” said Shrubb, who seemed far less intimidated by the company that Saba felt. “We saw its tracks in the beach sand on the way here.”

“It was on this side of town?” asked Terrence.

Shrubb nodded, perhaps forgetting that the captain was blind. Saba added. “Yes sir.”

The meal was of course delicious. Saba felt more than stuffed by the time he had cleared his plate and noticed without satisfaction that he and his fellow militiaman were largely responsible for their being no chips remaining on either serving platter. Even so, his mother leaned over and patted him on the shoulder, telling him that she would fix a bag of sandwiches for him and his friend to take with them.

“Our young militiamen cannot leave us yet,” said the professor. “You two must join Mr. Streck, Terrence, and myself on the portico for a cigar.”

The governor raised an eyebrow and Saba expected her to say “send them away as they’ve been away from their post for far too long already,” or at least “no smoking near the house.” She chose instead words that sent a chill down his spine. “An excellent idea. You and Terrence take the private and go on out. Corporal Colbshallow can follow in a moment. I need a word alone with him.”

The gentlemen headed for the front door. Mrs. Colbshallow began barking orders half in Brech and half in aboriginal, to the lizzie wait staff, who immediately began clearing the table. Yuah stood up to walk around the table and give Saba a kiss on the cheek before taking Mrs. Godwin’s arm and leading her in the direction of the library. Saba admired the dark blue bows that decorated the backside of the light blue dress, and then realized that the equally beautifully bedecked governor was at his elbow.

“It was most opportune that you joined us for lunch today.”

“Oh?”

“I needed to speak to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she said with the care normally given when speaking to someone not too bright. “I have need of you. Do you know what ship arrives in port tomorrow?”

“The Windermere.”

“Excellent. Yes, that’s right. There’s a man arriving on it. His name is Archibald Brockton. I want you to make contact with him for me.”

“Why don’t you just have him brought here?”

“Obviously because I don’t want to meet him. I want you to meet him. Arrange lodgings for him and then contact me for further instructions.”

“This sounds a bit like top secret government work,” said Saba.

“As well it might.” The governor smiled thinly.

When Saba joined the other men outside on the porch, Terrence, Professor Calliere, and Mr. Streck were all smoking cigars. Shrubb was leaning against a massive two-story column.

“You’ll have a cigar at least, won’t you?” asked the professor. “Your friend here doesn’t seem to like them.”

“I don’t like the way they make my skin feel,” said Shrubb. “Kind of flushed.”

“That shows that it is vorking,” said Mr. Streck, speaking for the first time.

“That’s a Freedonian accent, isn’t it?” asked Saba.

“Ja. I am Professor Calliere’s solicitor in the fatherland.”

Just then a horrendous roar cut through the chilly air. It echoed through the trees and through the bones of the men on the porch.

“Mein Gott in Himmel,” said Streck.

“That’s the tyrannosaurus,” said Shrubb.

“Yes,” agreed Terrence. “It’s just made a kill.”

Chapter Five: Spells and Potions

Senta looked through the glass of the small clear bottle at the milky green liquid inside. She swirled it around. It was just thick enough that the potion coated the inside of the glass.

“So if I drink this, I’ll be beautiful?” she wondered.

“I would be most surprised,” said Zurfina the Magnificent, who was lying naked across the divan. “You haven’t done it properly. It’s supposed to be a lovely forest green—not a putrid olive.”

“I used all the right ingredients and I put them in, in the right order.”

“But you didn’t maintain the necessary aura.”

“Aura? Kafira’s fanny! I didn’t need to worry about the aura when I was making happiness potion.”

“Trained lizzies could mix blessudine. It’s the easiest potion to make. Hermosatin is twice as difficult, amorazine more difficult than that, and dionoserin more difficult still.”

“Alright,” huffed Senta. “In exactly which part did I let my aura drop?”

“The rose petals.”

“Well, I can’t do it again. I don’t have any more rose petals. Why do you need rose petals anyway? I can understand cucumbers. Cucumbers are vegetables and vegetables are supposed to be good for you. I’ve never heard roses were good for you. I don’t even think you’re supposed to eat them.”

“Do you want to be a sorceress or a chemist?” said Zurfina, sitting up. “Do you think this is a science experiment? Cucumber is essential, but not because it’s good for you. It represents a man.”

“A man?”

“A specific part of a man anyway.”

“His todger?” asked Senta, incredulously.

“Yes, of course. And the rose petals represent the woman.”

“Her fanny? His todger and her fanny? And I’m supposed to drink this?”

“Relax,” said Zurfina, rising to her feet. “It’s not like it has the real bits in it. They are just representatives. That’s what magic is about. Dionoserin doesn’t have walnuts because they have any real connection to your brain. They just sort of look like a brain when you take them out of their shell.”

“I’ve had enough for today.”

“Yes, so have I,” said Zurfina, heading for the staircase. “Your ineptitude has completely worn me out. I’m going to take my beauty sleep. You should read your primer. You’ve been neglecting your studies.”

“What will happen if I drink this?” asked Senta, holding up the small bottle.

“It might be interesting to find out,” said her mistress, stopping on the first step to watch. “Go ahead and drink it.”

The girl tilted the bottle to her lips and swallowed the contents down. She licked her lips and waited, but nothing seemed to happen.

“It tastes alright,” she said.

“That’s the spearmint.”

“What does it represent?”

“It doesn’t represent anything,” said Zurfina, ascending the stairs. “It just makes it taste good.”

Senta followed Zurfina up the stairs, but stopped at her own room as the sorceress continued on. Going to the bookcase, she pulled out primer number six. She plopped herself onto her bed and began reading about the classification of animals. The people who had put the book together had obviously never been to Birmisia. They had the animals of the world divided into nice neat categories— invertebrates, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals. The deinonychus and velociraptors that wandered around the edges of Port Dechantagne had feathers, so they must be birds. Yet they seemed to have much more in common with the iguanodons that had moved south into the forest. They were reptiles, weren’t they? Senta decided to think more on the topic at a later time. She was running around in her unders and right now she was starting to feel the cold creep in around her. She went to the cast iron stove and tossed a few more logs in. The firebox on this floor was almost empty and it was her job to keep it full. One of these days Zurfina would teach her a spell for filling the firebox, or at least for carrying big piles of wood easily up the stairs.

She went to the window and peered out. The sun was going down and it was all grey and white amid the trees. The wind whistled on the other side of the thin pane of glass. Five days earlier the storm had rolled in from the north and it hadn’t let up since. She hadn’t been outside in that whole time and no one had come to visit her either. Senta resolved to go visiting on the morrow regardless of the weather. She opened the primer again, but ten minutes passed without her reading another word.

She heard the front door a level below open and slam shut. It never occurred to her that someone would enter who had no business being there. This was Zurfina the Magnificent’s home and such an action would have been more than reckless– it would have been suicidal. She turned her head toward the stairway and watched until the graceful form of the steel dragon danced over the top step.

“Pet,” said Bessemer.

“Come here and warm me up,” Senta commanded.

The dragon’s long, lithe body crossed the room in two quick steps and hopped onto the bed with her. A moment later his body was on top of hers, his neck was wrapped around hers, with his head resting on her chest, and his long tail was wrapped around her right leg. His scaly skin felt hard and smooth, but he was exceptionally warm. It was like having a big scaly hot water bottle.

“Did you find something to eat?” asked Senta.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“Possum.”

“Opossum.” Senta stressed the O. “Why don’t you eat a velociraptor? You would be doing a public service and besides, they’re thick. They’ve got to be easier to find that a possum.”

“Opossum,” corrected the dragon.

“Don’t get cheeky. Now answer the question.”

“More warm blood.”

“That’s kind of disgusting.”

Bessemer didn’t reply. He had already closed his eyes and dozed off. After a minute, Senta did too. But she woke up sometime later. It was the middle of the night. The room was dark, and while the stove had stopped giving off warmth, half of her was sweating and the other half of her felt frozen through.

“Get off, you,” she said gruffly, as she half shoved the body of the dragon off of her and half slid herself out from under it.

She started to shiver and thought about adding more wood to the stove, but then her stomach rumbled, convincing her to go downstairs instead. She hadn’t eaten supper, since as usual, if she didn’t make it, it didn’t get made. She ran down the steps to the kitchen/parlor and hurried over to the stove, but it was just as cold as the one upstairs.

“Uuthanum,” she said, pointing to the lamp by the chair.

It ignited into a warming glow. Quickly she opened the stove and began filling it with logs. It would usually hold seven or eight depending upon their size. This time only five went in. She hadn’t bothered to scoop out the ashes first. She looked around for some paper for kindling, but there wasn’t any. Besides, by the time the fire took, she would be a block of ice. She decided that this called for some real magic. She knew just the spell. She hadn’t officially learned it, but she had seen Zurfina cast it. She pointed her finger at the stove and carefully pronounced the words as she remembered them.

“Uuthanum uluchaiia uluthiuth.”

The stove exploded in fire. Fire shot out of the open door. Fire shot out of the air vents on the sides. The cast iron burner plates on the stovetop flew into the air as flame shot out from beneath them. Senta instinctively covered her face with her hands as the blast pushed her back. Flame sprang up from the rug and the dust ruffle on the comfy chair began to burn. The room began to fill up with smoke.

Senta grabbed the blanket off the chair and began to beat the fire on the rug. The rug was quickly extinguished but then the blanket was on fire. She threw it down and began stomping on it with her bare feet. The flame from the blanket ignited the frilly bottom of her bloomers and began to run up her leg.

“Stop, drop, and roll!” she shouted. “Stop, drop, and roll!”

It was a second though before she remembered that it wasn’t enough to shout it. You had to do it. She threw herself on the wooden floor and rolled back and forth several times. Sitting up, she saw that her underwear was no longer blazing, but the chair was totally engulfed and the blanket now lying on the floor was too.

“Bloody hell!” she shouted. Then she stopped to cough.

Setting her jaw in determination, Senta pointed her index finger at one calamity after another. “uuthanum, uuthanum, uuthanum, uuthanum, uuthanum.”

The stove door slammed shut. The equivalent of several bucket of water appeared out of nowhere, dousing the chair and the blanket. The front door flew open and a breeze sucked the smoke outside. Once the air was clear, the door slammed shut again.

“Bloody hell,” she said again, surveying the damage. The chair and the rug were a total loss and the blanket was now completely unrecognizable. At least the stove seemed none the worse for wear. Who knows what else had been damaged by the smoke though? She looked down at her blackened bloomers, then at her sooty hands. She put her hands to her face.

“Kafira’s tit!” she cried, when her fingers found where her eyebrows had been. The hair around her face was singed too.

Senta found the burner plates and put them back on the stove. She picked up a crate that had once held a selection of potatoes and winter squash from Mr. Callinger’s produce stand, and carried it over to the chair. She put the burned blanket in the crate and took it outside. Stomping the snow off her bare feet as she came back in, she rolled up the burnt rug and took it outside as well. When she came back in, she stopped and warmed herself by the now glowing stove. The room was now quite toasty, despite the front door having been opened twice.

Opening the froredor, Senta poured herself a glass of milk and cut a hunk of yellow cheese. While she ate, she tried to think of what to do. There wasn’t much to be done about the chair, so she decided to leave it. After finishing her snack, she pulled the dining chair over to the stove and sat thinking. Her head lolling to her shoulder jerked her awake and she realized that hours must have passed. She pulled her burnt bloomers off and tossed them into the fire, put the dining chair back where it went, then went upstairs to her room and climbed into a hot bath. She didn’t stay in long; just enough to wash away the smoke smell. Then she climbed into bed, next to Bessemer, and went back to sleep.

“So what happened?” asked a sultry voice from somewhere nearby.

Senta pulled her head beneath the blankets. “It was the dragon.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? The dragon? Really?”

“It was an accident. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“How do you explain your half of one eyebrow?”

Senta peaked out from beneath the blanket. Bessemer snored quietly and Zurfina stood beside the bed with her hand on one hip. She was wearing a black garment that looked to be halfway between a toga and a curtain. She didn’t look particularly angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I used a fireball to light the stove.”

“A fireball?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s quite advanced,” said the sorceress, tapping her chin with her index finger. “Maybe it is you.”

“It was me,” admitted Senta. “It wasn't Bessemer. I caused the fire.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, that much is obvious. Did you put out the fire using magic?”

“Yes.”

“Most commendable.”

“But what are we going to do now?” Senta’s voice quavered involuntarily.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already cleaned up the rooms downstairs and restored the chair. We’ll buy a new rug.”

“I mean about my eyebrows!”

“Come with me.” Zurfina pulled her by the hand and led her over to the large cheval glass that stood against the wall. She reached out and pulled a pink handled straight razor seemingly from the air, and with a quick swipe, she removed the remaining bit of eyebrow. The razor disappeared back to wherever it had come from, and then Zurfina swirled her finger over Senta’s head. Her hair flew up and settled back down, all the singed parts having been restored back to normal. Senta felt her head. Her hair was a good eight or nine inches longer than it had been, falling well below her shoulders.

“Couldn’t you have just fixed my eyebrows too?” she asked.

“I could grow them back but we would have to spend all day trimming them back and shaping them and well… I don’t want to. Just draw them on with an eyebrow pencil.” She leaned back and looked at the girl. “Clearly I’ve been negligent in teaching you new spells if you feel the need to try one you’re not ready for.”

“It worked,” protested Senta.

“Indeed.” Zurfina took Senta’s head in her hands and looked deep into her eyes. “You should go ahead and practice the fireball, but do it outside. And since you seem to have an affinity for potent offensive spell combat, try this: Uuthanum rechthinov uluchaiia.”

“Uuthanum rechthinov uluchaiia,” Senta recited.

“That’s another one you should practice out of doors. Now, what are you planning to do today?”

“I was going into town—if it’s stopped snowing.”

“It hasn’t stopped snowing, but you should still go into town.”

“Why?” wondered Senta.

“I’m in the mood for a bit more peace and quiet. You can take Bessemer with you too.” The sorceress curled her lip. “After all, you are the Drache Girl, eh?”

“He just ate.”

Zurfina nodded. It was understood that after eating, the dragon would sleep for at least a day.

An hour later, Senta was ready to leave the house. She had dressed in the clothing that Zurfina had laid out for her—a pair of leather pants and a strange black blouse with very fluffy sleeves. Fortunately Senta’s heavy coat completely covered her unorthodox attire. On her feet she had her heavy boots and oiled overs. She wore a little black hat and carried a large black umbrella. And on her face were two hand-drawn, slightly crooked eyebrows.

Outside the wind was still blowing fiercely and the snow was dropping swiftly from the sky at ever-changing angles. So much had fallen during the night that the top of the small fence that encircled the yard was no longer visible and with her first step away from the door, Senta sank down to her mid-thigh. Little bits of cold wetness fell into her boots. The wind whipped up under the umbrella and bit at her cheeks and nose.

“Uuthanum rivah-necht,” she said waving her hand. She immediately felt warmer, but when she stepped forward, she sank even deeper into the snow. The spell helped the body endure extreme weather, but it didn’t make it any easier to negotiate the winter terrain. Taking step after step through the rapidly growing drifts, by the time Senta reached what she thought must be the edge of the road, she was exhausted. As she took several deep breaths, she savored the fresh smell of pine and cedar on the cold air. With the exception of the wind whistling through the trees, all was eerily quiet.

Turning left, Senta saw at some distance, the figure of a man, black against the backdrop of white, moving west toward her. He was clothed in heavy winter gear and carried an enormous rifle slung over his shoulder. He was moving along quite nicely though through, or rather over, the snow, because he had some kind of contraptions attached to the bottoms of his boots. The figure was almost upon her before she could see that the devices were round, netted constructions not unlike badminton rackets. Now she could see that the rifle was not so large, it was just that the man was short. Pulling back his furry hood, the figure revealed himself as Graham.

“What have you got on your feet?” Senta asked him.

“Snow shoes. The dog’s bullocks, right?”

“Well, yeah. Where did you get them?”

“My Da made them. And look.” He reached over his shoulder and pulled another pair of the strange contraptions from where they hung, on a string around his neck. “I had him make you a pair too.”

“That’s ace,” said Senta, dropping to sit in the snow. Then rolling onto her back, she stuck her feet up into the air. “Put them on for me.”

Graham started fastening the devices onto the bottom of the girl’s boots.

“Are you wearing pants?” he asked.

“Don’t peek!”

“I’m not… I mean I didn’t mean to.”

He finished tying on the snowshoes, and then lending his hand to Senta, he pulled her back up. She took a few tentative steps to try them out. It was amazing. You could walk along on the snow without sinking down more than an inch or two.

“Where did he get the idea for these?”

“Royal Geographic Society Journal.”

“Well, that was wonderfully nice of him, and you. Thanks. How come you came out all by yourself?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you snuck out. I really thought I would get here before you did. I can’t just let a girl wander around in a frozen forest by herself, can I?”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Too right. Nobody’s seen the tyrannosaurus since it killed that triceratops on the other side of town, but there are plenty of big birds hanging around. Aalwijn Finkler saw two utahraptors yesterday right by the Town Square, bold as life. So I brought my Da’s rifle.”

“Wasn’t your Ma afraid you would shoot yourself with it?”

“She would have been,” admitted the boy, “if she had seen me leave with it.”

“Here. I’ve got something for you,” said Senta. She pointed her finger at Graham and cast the endure elements spell on him. Though his cheek twitched a bit when she first pointed at him, he didn’t flinch as the spell took hold.

“Nice. That’s better than a pipe.” Some of the rosiness returned to Graham’s face. “Mind you, I didn’t need it. I could stay out in the snow all day.”

“Yes, you’re quite the arctic explorer. Come on. Let’s go.”

The two of them started down the road toward the Town Square. The snowshoes made the journey almost as easy as it would have been had there been no snow at all.

“That was really sweet of you to have your Da make these for me,” said Senta.

“It doesn’t mean you’re my girlfriend,” Graham replied, rather too quickly to Senta’s mind.

“Of course not. You’d have done it for any of your friends.”

“That’s right.”

“So you have a pair for Hertzal?”

“Um, well… you may not be my girlfriend, but you’re still a girl. I have to look out for you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You just said I was a gentleman.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“I guess we ladies are all very lucky to have you around,” said Senta dryly.

Suddenly Graham stopped, putting his arm out to stop her as well. Senta watched him as he slipped the strap of the rifle from his shoulder. Only after he had pressed the butt of the stock to his shoulder did she look to see what had alarmed him. Stalking slowly toward them, skirting the edge of the trees on the right hand side of the road were two monstrous feathered creatures. They must have been the same two utahraptors that Aalwijn Finkler had seen. They were magnificent creatures, cloaked in turquoise feathers that slowly turned to forest green at the end of their long tufted tails. Those tails stuck straight out behind them, making their total length nearly twenty-five feet. Their heads, eight feet above the ground, moved forward and back as they walked. One of them would have been more than a match for a grown man.

Graham carefully aimed down the length of the barrel. He squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. Lowering the weapon, he flipped the safety to the fire position, and then sighted again. This time when he fired there was a satisfying crack. The utahraptors stopped, startled for a moment, but seemed uninjured. Graham worked the action and fired again. This time Senta saw the bullet strike the trunk of a massive redwood about twenty feet above the ground and quite a bit behind the predators.

“It’s not sited in right,” muttered Graham, as he pulled back the bolt.

This time, as with the first shot, they were unable to determine where the missile hit.

“Um, aim at their feet and a bit to the right of them,” advised Senta.

This time the bullet hit a tree just to the right of the foremost creature.

“The next one is in your head!” called Graham as if he had intended the previous shots as warnings.

The utahraptor did not look at all impressed. He and his cohort were not much more than fifty feet away. When they charged they could clear that distance in the blink of an eye. For the moment though they were still being wary of the strange little creatures that made loud booming noises and refused to run.

“You better stand behind me,” said Graham bravely.

Instead of moving to stand behind her friend, Senta pointed her index finger at the gigantic bird. The words just seemed to appear in her mind. “Uuthanum rechthinov uluchaiia.” A bolt of lightning shot from her finger. Illuminating the world beneath the shadowy sky with a harsh blue light, it arced from her hand to the first utahraptor, striking it in the chest and passing through it to strike the second. It lasted only a second before the world turned back to its dull grey and the bodies of the two great beasts crumpled to the ground.

“Kafira,” murmured Graham, then he and Senta rushed forward.

The smell of burnt feathers hung in the air when they reached the side of the monsters—burnt feathers and something else. Maybe burnt air?

“You’d better shoot them to make sure they’re dead,” advised Senta.

Graham nodded and took aim at the first utahraptor. The end of the gun barrel was no more than three feet away from the massive head and there was a loud crack and a dull thud as the lead bullet entered the beast’s skull. At the noise, the second bird suddenly stirred, kicking its legs out and tossing its head as it struggled to get to its feet.

“Shoot it!” Senta’s voice sounded more excited than she felt.

Graham aimed and fired. The bullet made a small crater in the snow beside the utahraptor’s head. Before he was able to work the action, the creature jumped upright. It opened its mouth in something that was half roar, half squawk. Then it turned and ran away through the trees. Pulling the rifle butt back to his shoulder, the boy took aim at the fleeing beast, but it was already almost lost between the trunks of the massive pines and redwoods.

“Hey!” Half a dozen men were running in their direction from the east. By the time they reached the two children, Graham had thrown his gun over his shoulder and pulled a very long turquoise feather from the utahraptor’s tail, which he handed to Senta. The men stopped next to the fallen creature. Among them were Sergeant Clark and a couple of armed militiamen, as well as Mr. Darwin and Mr. Fonstan.

“Look Clark,” said Mr. Fonstan. “These children killed the utahraptor that you and your men couldn’t even find.”

Clark shot him an evil look.

“If you don’t have any use for the carcass,” said Mr. Darwin to Graham. “I’ll gladly give you two marks for it.”

While the man and boy were negotiating, with Mr. Fonstan looking on, Clark and his two men followed the trail of the second creature into the trees, leaving Senta standing near the sixth man in the group. He was a stranger, a young man wearing a black greatcoat over a charcoal suit. His blond hair was cut short beneath a furry cap. He examined the girl with steely eyes.

“So who would you be?” he asked, his voice thick with a Freedonian accent.

“She would be the Drache Girl,” said Fonstan, turning around.

“Ja? This little bit?” He was looking neither at Fonstan nor Senta, but was scanning the edge of the trees.

“That’s right,” said Senta saucily. “What’s that?”

She pointed to a small, round black and red pin on the lapel of his coat. It was something like a cross, with each of the four legs broken off at right angles. The man sneered.

“You Brech call it a gammadion, but its proper name is fylfot.”

“Yeah? What’s it for?”

“It is the symbol of the Die Wahre Kunst von Zauberei,” he said, turning his attention back to her.

“Um… painting with wizards?”

“The true art. Wizardry. Ignorant girl!”

“Watch your mouth buddy!” Graham was at Senta’s side. “I’ll give you what for!”

“Come on children.” Mr. Fonstan, stepping around the Freedonain, took the children by their shoulders and guided them past him. “Let’s not bother Mr. Streck anymore.”

Streck went back to looking around, while Mr. Fonstan led the children down the road toward Town Square. Graham kept turning to look over his shoulder at Streck. When he started to slow a bit, Mr. Fonstan pulled him along.

“Don’t go looking for trouble, lad,” he said. “I don’t like the look of that one and it ain’t just because he’s foreigner.”

They had traveled more than halfway from Zurfina’s tower to the square before encountering the utahraptors, so it was only a short walk to complete the trip. Mr. Fonstan’s long legs made up for the fact that he had no snowshoes. While the snow continued to drop, now the wind whipped up to toss it into little spirals in the air. Mr. Fonstan left them at the corner of the almost completed bakery building.

“Tell your Da, I’ll see him tomorrow night for a pint and darts as usual,” he said before he left.

“Right-o,” replied Graham, and then turned to look at Senta. “What?”

“I was just about to get that Freedonian to show me some of his stuff before you butted in. I wanted to see how strong of a wizard he was.”

“But you didn’t even know that he was a wizard.”

“So you were listening in on my conversation? Do you think I could live with Zurfina for almost two whole years and not know every magic symbol in the world?”

The boy looked at his feet. “I was just trying to be… you know… a gentleman and all.”

“My hero,” said Senta dryly. “Anyway. How much did you talk Mr. Darwin out of?”

“Three marks. That’s one and fifty p for each of us.”

Senta didn’t point out that it was she that was really responsible for the creature’s demise. After all, Graham had done his best. And she felt warm inside when she remembered the moment, as the great beasts prepared to charge, that he told her to stand behind him.

“What do you want to do with the money?” she asked.

“Let’s go get some soda water and pfennig candy,” he grinned, and then frowned. “Hey, what’s with your eyebrows?”

Chapter Six: Yuah and Cissy

Cissy was getting quite used to her new role. The work she did, while not physically demanding, was at least varied enough to keep her attention. She enjoyed watching the humans and learning about their strange activities. She enjoyed earning many copper bits and spending some of them to buy things. She liked the human houses, especially now with four feet of snow on the ground outside and more coming down all the time. Unused rooms in the big house could become as drafty as the huts in lizzie villages, but there were so many fireplaces constantly burning that it was easy to find a place to warm up. And her own place, in the room she now shared with four other females, in the back of the motorshed, was kept toasty warm in the evening.

“Pay attention Cissy,” said Mrs. Dechantagne.

Cissy was lacing up the back of the strange undergarment that squeezed the human woman’s waist. Cissy now knew Mrs. Dechantagne’s name, and indeed the names of the other members of the household, though the intricacies of their familial connections still baffled her. Nor could she pronounce most of the names, but fortunately speech on her part was seldom needed. She liked Mrs. Dechantagne almost as much as she liked Mrs. Colbshallow. Neither woman hit the lizzies and Mrs. Dechantagne didn’t yell at them overmuch. While Mrs. Colbshallow did on occasion raise her voice, she alone among the humans had learned the lizzie language, and offered affection toward the lizzies.

Cissy found herself starting to think in Brech, rather than her native language. She had learned so many words for things that there were no words for among the lizzies. She had stopped thinking of her race as “the people” and now just thought of them as lizzies, and more often than not, when she thought of herself, the name Cissy came to mind rather than Ssissiatok.

She pulled the corset strings tightly through they eyelets and pulled down on them, locking them into position, so that she could then tie them into a knot. Once that was done, Mrs. Dechantagne turned around to examine her work in the cheval glass.

“Yes, that’s fine. Now help me into the dress.”

Cissy was fascinated by the ornate dresses that the human females wore, and this dress was no exception. It was the color of an angry sunset and was made of enough material to have clothed a dozen men and women. Covered with coral roses and pink bows, it had to be carefully held so that Mrs. Dechantagne could step into it. Then it was fastened up the back with more than forty tiny buttons, which Cissy could barely manipulate even with a buttonhook in her clawed fingers. There was no way that the woman could have put it on by herself and there was no way that she would be able to get out of it either. Of course Cissy had her own skirt, but it was just a wide piece of material wrapped around her above the tail, a mere homage to the dresses worn by the human women of the house.

Once Mrs. Dechantagne was in her dress, Cissy had to kneel down to put the woman’s shoes on her feet, using the same buttonhook to slip the twenty-four buttons on each shoe into their correct spot. Before she could stand up she heard a shrieking sound from the doorway to the right. She turned to see elderly Mrs. Godwin leaning against the doorframe with her hand on her breast.

“Are you alright Mrs. Godwin?” asked Mrs. Dechantagne.

“I thought for a moment you were being attacked… by an alligator.”

“Did you forget your glasses again, Mrs. G?”

“Of course I didn’t. I have them… oh…” Mrs. Godwin felt her face, and not finding any glasses there, turned and wandered off down the hallway.

“You do rather look like an alligator,” said the young woman, looking down at Cissy.

“Alligator?”

“Yes. Well, I’ve never seen one in real life. Just in books. Um, they say you have crocodiles that are very similar. Do you know crocodiles?”

Cissy shook her head.

“Oh well. Get up off the floor. I’m done with you for now. Go down and see what Mrs. Colbshallow has for you.”

Leaving the bedroom and walking down the staircase, Cissy looked into the kitchen to find Mrs. Colbshallow supervising the lunch preparations. Shoss and Clegg were washing and cutting vegetables while Sill was arranging a few snow flowers in a vase. Kheesie stepped into the room just behind Cissy.

“Did you finish helping Mrs. Dechantagne get dressed?” asked Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Yes sss…” Cissy hissed mirthfully. Though she had understood everything the woman had said, not many would have, since about every other word was in the lizzie language. She had in fact not said “Mrs. Dechantagne”, but had used the term the lizzies in the house had for her, which roughly translated to “the thin white and brown one”.

“And you Kheesie? Is Iolana down for her nap?”

“Yes,” said Kheesie, then turning to Cissy, hissed under her breath. “Finally. It simply refuses to sleep.”

“She,” corrected Cissy.

“Very good,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “You two are free for now. Staff lunch is in two hours time. Come see me afterwards.”

The lizzies were used to eating just once each day, but Mrs. Colbshallow insisted that they sit down to dine three times, each immediately after the three biggest meals of the humans. Cissy made her way out the back door and across the snow-covered yard to her room in the back of the motor shed. Kheesie followed. Once they were inside, they both stretched out on their sleeping mats, lying flat on their stomachs, their noses pointed toward one another.

“I saw Tattasserott walking by on the road in front of the big house,” said Kheesie.

“What was he doing?” wondered Cissy. “Has he got a job here now?”

“You know he doesn’t have a job. He’s Ssterrost’s kinsman.”

“He can’t be in the town unless he has a job. The soft-skins don’t allow us here without an identification bracelet.”

“He bought one or he took it from someone. I’ve seen a dozen lizzies around town with identification bracelets that belong to someone else. The soft-skins can’t tell us apart. He’s here to get the copper bits for Ssterrost.”

“I don’t care why he’s here,” said Cissy, lifting her nose off the floor. “He won’t come here. He’ll be too afraid to come here.”

“No, he won’t come here,” agreed Kheesie. “But we all leave sometime. We go in to town. We all have to do errands. He can find us away from the house sometime.”

Just then Tisson stuck his snout inside the door. “Cissy. The thin white and brown one wants you again. You have to walk to the store with her.”

Cissy got up; ignoring the knowing look that Kheesie gave her. She found Mrs. Dechantagne, her dress now covered with a large furry coat, her head topped by a wide-brimmed hat, and her hands held together in a furry muff, waiting in the foyer. Mrs. Godwin was speaking to her.

“You’ll catch your death of cold before you reach the square. Dresses like that were not meant for tramping along on snow-covered roadways.”

“If there was some other means of transportation available, I would gladly take it,” replied Mrs. Dechantagne. “There are no steam carriages. We don’t have a trolley.”

“Maybe you should just stay home then.”

“I can’t stay home. Mrs. Bratihn is finally in her shop and ready to take measurements.”

“Didn’t you have her take your measurements just the other day?” wondered Mrs. Godwin.

“That was at her house. I need to have my measurements taken in the shop.”

“I suppose you’ll do what you want,” said Mrs. Godwin, throwing up her hands and walking away. “Might as well order a dress to replace this one, since it will be ruined. Of course you’ll probably catch your death…”

“I want you to accompany me to the Town Square,” said Mrs. Dechantagne to Cissy.

Cissy nodded.

“I… I’m afraid to go by myself. The deinonychus… and the velociraptors…”

“The feathered runners,” said Cissy, forgetting for a moment that the woman couldn’t understand her language. She nodded again to indicate her own understanding. Velociraptors were small, knee high to a lizardman. They presented no threat to one of her people. They seldom attacked even a lone human, unless he was injured. The deinonychus were larger and a flock would go after a human, or even three or four humans if they were feeling particularly aggressive. Even they were cautious around the lizzies though. The lizzies were not soft like the humans, and they didn’t have tiny, useless mouths either. Two clawed hands. A large mouth full of cone-shaped teeth. A tail. Of course even a single utahraptor would as happily attack a lizzie as a human and there wasn’t much to do about that but to run.

“Do you want a coat?” asked Mrs. Dechantagne.

Cissy shook her head no. They exited the front door and made their way across the yard to the road. The snow was still coming down, and though the road had finally been salted by a lizzie work crew, several inches of new accumulation had once again covered it.

Mrs. Dechantagne removed one hand from her muff and pulled the furry collar of her coat up around her ears.

* * * * *

Yuah removed one hand from her muff and pulled the furry collar of her coat up around her ears. She walked as swiftly as was practical down the road, the hem of her dress leaving a wide brush pattern in the soft snow, with Cissy following about six feet behind her and slightly to her right. Watching the edge of the forests for any frightening Birmisian beasts, she occasionally glanced back at the lizzie maid, to find her looking back with her yellow eyes. Yuah wasn’t sure if she was staring at her the whole time, or just looked at her when she made to turn around. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. She stopped and pointed to the ground next to her.

“You walk here.”

The lizzie stopped for a moment, rolled her eyes around, then stepped forward to the indicated spot.

“You will walk next to me on this trip. That way we can look for dangers.”

“Yes,” agreed Cissy.

Town square wasn’t too awfully far from the Dechantagne home and it wasn’t long before they arrived. Though the skin of her cheeks smarted and she could feel the weight of her wet dress hem, Yuah was pleased to note that she had not been unduly discomforted by the trek. She made a beeline for the dress shop, the bell mounted above the door ringing as she entered.

“Don’t just stand in the doorway!” shouted Mrs. Luebking. “In or out!”

Yuah was startled at being spoken to in such a way until she realized that Mrs. Luebking was talking to Cissy, who had followed her in.

“Yes,” said Yuah. “In or out.”

Cissy turned to guide her long tail into the shop, and then allowed the door to close.

“Well good day Yuah,” said Mrs. Leubking, stepping forward to offer a great hug. “Or must I call you Mrs. D now.”

“Oh please don’t.”

“Married life certainly suits you. I can see a glow around you already.” Mrs. Luebking peered over Yuah’s shoulder. “Is this your lizzie?”

Turning around, Yuah looked at Cissy, who was bent over examining a green hat covered in flowers and with a large red feather. “Yes. I didn’t want to walk alone.”

“Quite understandable.” Mrs. Luebking nodded sagely. “And we’ve already had some of them in and out of here, naturally—deliveries and what not. Still, I’d rather not have it hanging around when Mrs. Bratihn comes back. You understand.”

“Mm.” Yuah did understand. Mr. Bratihn and Terrence had both been blinded while in captivity in the lizzie city-state of Suusthek. She called to her maid. “You may go to the pfennig store. I’ll be done here in just a little bit.”

The lizzie stared back for a moment, and then opened the door causing the bell to ring once again, and went out. It took so long for the tip of her long tail to leave the shop that Yuah thought the door might close on it. But it didn’t.

“Now what can Mrs. B and I do for you today?” The question brought Yuah’s attention back to the other woman.

“I need to be measured.”

“But you were just measured the other day.”

Yuah lowered her voice. “That was before I was married. My body is… different now.”

Mrs. Luebking laughed. “I’m sure you feel different, dear. But your measurements haven’t changed noticeably. Believe me, I have an eye for such things.”

At that moment, Mrs. Bratihn emerged from the doorway that led to the shop’s back room. She had obviously just come in the back door, because she was dressed in her coat with snowflakes still clinging to it and to her hair.

“There’s my favorite customer,” she said. “What can I do for you today?”

* * * * *

“What can I do for you today?” asked Mr. Parnorsham, the human who ruled the store that sold many wonderful items.

The shop was empty of any other customers. Mr. Parnorsham stood behind the wooden counter sipping a drink from a glass bottle. Cissy stepped away from the door and walked down the aisle between the counter topped here and there with stacks of canned goods and several racks holding umbrellas, rubber overshoes, and slickers. She stopped in front of the counter opposite the shop proprietor who looked up at her questioningly.

“Well, what is it that you need?”

“Ood.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”

“Dlocks.”

“I don’t follow. Can you describe it?”

Cissy held up her hands to make a small square with her clawed fingers. Mr. Parnorsham stepped back as if she was about to lunge at him.

“Scare dlocks.”

“Why don’t you look around? If you don’t see it, then I’m afraid I just won’t be able to help you.”

Cissy nodded and then wandered around to the next aisle where the toy counter was located. She knew that what she was looking for had to be somewhere nearby. She had seen many human children with them. The twenty-four inch square display, divided into six inch square compartments, each held a different type of toy—rubber bouncing balls, toy guns, small human shapes made of metal, very tiny tea cups with saucers, and wooden replicas of strange four-legged creatures with yarn tails. Cissy picked one up and tried to imagine what the real animal would look like. Then she spied what she was looking for. Just beyond the toys were mesh bags filled with square wooden blocks. She reached down to pick up one of the bags and just as she did, heard the sound of the bell above the door ringing.

A truly massive lizardman entered. He was well over seven feet tall, with mottled greyish green skin and a jagged dewlap that had once been mauled by a utahraptor. He immediately saw Cissy and started toward her. Cissy looked around. Mr. Parnorsham, after noting that the visitor was another lizzie, had turned to something occupying him behind his counter.

“Ssissiatok,” said the newcomer when he had come within arm’s length of her.

“You are not supposed to be in the softskin town, Tattasserott,” said Cissy.

“Who are you to tell me where I can and cannot go, Ssissiatok?”

“My name is Cissy. And I am the governor’s lizzie.”

“You belong to Ssterrost and Ssterrost wants his share of your copper bits.”

The bell above the door rang again and the two lizzies stopped talking to look as a human woman entered. Though all of the soft-skins looked strange to lizzie eyes, this woman was by far the strangest that Cissy had ever seen. Instead of the large, colorful dresses that the other females wore, this one was covered in tight-fitting leather, making her look far thinner. Most lizzies might have mistaken her for a male without the large bump on her behind, but Cissy now knew to look for breasts as an indicator of sex. Tattasserott might not have known as much about human anatomy as Cissy did, but he recognized the human anyway.

“The witch woman!” he hissed.

The witch woman cast hardly an eye in the direction of the two reptilians, stepping unhurriedly through the store to where Mr. Parnorsham stood in back. Tattasserott seemed unable to move, not even scrunching down to make himself smaller. Cissy moved slightly away from him, but kept her attention on the sorceress.

“Zurfina,” said Mr. Parnorsham. “I don’t believe you’ve ever been in my store before.”

“Good day proprietor,” said Zurfina, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I don’t know if you know, but I have a young girl living with me.”

“You mean, besides Senta?”

“Oh, you know her.”

“Everyone knows Senta. She’s the Drache Girl. She comes in here almost…”

“Anyway,” Zurfina interrupted. “Her ninth birthday is coming up and I want to purchase a toy or some such.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s ten years old already.”

“Really?” The sorceress shot Mr. Parnorsham a withering look, but he held up bravely.

“Yes, that’s right. She’s ten, and I believe she said her birthday’s in Quaduary.”

“Well, that is coming up, is it not?”

“Yes, of course, but um…”

“Yes?”

“I think she is a bit too grown up for toys.”

“Really? Well, I’ll just look around for a bit.”

Zurfina turned and slowly made her way through the aisles directly toward the two lizzies, who continued to stand like great reptilian statues where they were. She stepped around Cissy and stood between them to look down at the toy counter. She picked up one of the strange four-legged creatures made of wood with yarn tails and made a noise by blowing air through her lips. It seemed as though she hardly realized the lizzies were even there, but then she looked Cissy directly in the eye. Cissy stared back at those strange human grey and white eyes, and before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“Zurfina.”

The witch woman looked at her again, moving her face very close as if she was making a careful examination of lizzie skin. “That's right.”

“Nice yellow hair,” said Cissy.

“Proprietor?” said Zurfina, not looking away. “This creature is speaking to me.”

“Yes,” called Mr. Parnorsham. “Some of them do that.”

The bell above the door rang again and Mrs. Dechantagne entered.

“Are you done shopping yet Cissy? I'm almost ready to start for home.”

She walked around the counter and joined Zurfina and the two lizzies. Unlike the sorceress, she was clearly intimidated by Tattasserott's size, though she was forced by the narrow aisle and her large bustle to step very close to him.

“Good day Zurfina,” she said, still glancing sideways at the big male lizzie.

Zurfina slowly turned her head, though her eyes stayed glued on the talking lizzie. At last, when her face was pointed toward the other woman, her eyes popped over to look at her.

“I don't believe I know you, do I?”

“Don't be silly,” said Mrs. Dechantagne indignantly. “Of course you know me. You've known me for years now. You turned me to stone once.”

“My dear, that could be any number of people,” said Zurfina. “Well...the face is familiar... but I don’t seem to recall the name.”

“It's Yuah. Yuah Korl... Yuah Dechantagne.”

“Oh! Now I know you. You're the social climber who just married into a great deal of wealth.”

Mrs. Dechantagne scrunched her nose. “You can be such a witch.” Turning on her heal, she marched toward the door.

“Hurry up Cissy!” she called after her, before exiting the store. “I'll be waiting.”

Zurfina watched her leave with a big smile on her face. When the door closed, she looked back at Cissy.

“I'll be watching you,” she said quietly, then turned toward the back of the shop. “Proprietor, I don't see anything appropriate for an eight year old girl.”

“I have some wonderful new things I could order, if you’d like to step back to look at the catalog.”

“You crazy female!” hissed Tattasserott, when the witch woman had moved away. “What do you think you are playing at?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You stay away from me. And don't bother coming back to Tserich either. You don't belong there anymore.”

He quickly left the store. Cissy took her bag of blocks to the counter and paid Mr. Parnorsham twenty-five copper bits for them. When she left the shop, she found Mrs. Dechantagne waiting for her.

“It's about time. I've been waiting.”

Cissy didn't reply.

“That big lizzie.” said Mrs. Dechantagne. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No,” said Cissy.

“Well, come along. I want to get home.”

Chapter Seven: Powerful Magic

“You think I'm an idiot?” demanded Senta.

“I didn't say anything of the kind,” replied Zurfina calmly.

“I know a fylfot when I see one!”

“Don't be so defensive, Pet. I didn't say I didn't believe you. I merely pointed out that I have been all over this town in the past few weeks and I haven't seen hide nor hair of this wizard of yours.”

“Well I saw him. I've been keeping tabs on him since he got here and I even talked to him.”

“I don't doubt you,” said Zurfina, in a remarkably soothing voice, “but the level of residual magic around town is no more than I would expect from you and your everyday antics.”

“Are you sure you didn't miss some?”

“Now who's being insulting?” The sorceress's voice suddenly flared louder. “If I didn't detect it, it wasn't there.”

“Hmph!” said Senta, and crossing her arms, turned to face the door.

Zurfina sighed. “Children are so difficult. Is it any wonder that I never wanted one of my own?”

“Maybe you should just get rid of me like everybody else does,” said Senta quietly.

Zurfina crossed from the kitchen to the other side of the stairs and put an arm around Senta's shoulders.

“You're far too interesting for me to get rid of now. Look, this wizard of yours is obviously far too insignificant for me to concern myself with. You'll have to take care of him.”

“Me? I'm just a little kid.”

“You know something?” said Zurfina, taking her arm from around Senta and grasping her by the shoulders. “Nobody believes that—least of all me. There's not a journeyman wizard this side of Xygia who can do what you can do with magic.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Of course you would.”

“Well...” Zurfina shrugged. “Keep an eye on your wizard, and if he turns out to be a threat to us, neutralize him.”

“What if you're wrong and he magics the crap out of me?” wondered Senta.

“Then I'll know better with my next apprentice,” replied Zurfina. “Do you want a sandwich?”

“Yes.”

Zurfina waved her finger in the air and, as the contents of the froredor began to fly out to the table and assemble themselves into sandwiches, she started up the stairs.

“Bring my meal up to the top floor. Leave it on the step outside the door. Don’t come in.”

“I haven't forgotten,” said Senta, watching mayonnaise being spread across a freshly cut piece of bread.

When the sandwiches had been completed, Senta delivered Zurfina's to the appropriate location. Then she put away the ingredients by hand and sat down at the table to enjoy hers. She was only on her second bite when there was a knock at the door. As she opened it, the cold air from outside blew across her bare shins and feet. It had stopped snowing a couple of days before, but it was still cold out and the world was still covered with a thick blanket of white. Standing outside and shivering was Hertzal Hertling.

“Hertzal!” squealed Senta, giving him a great hug. “Where is your sister? Didn't she come with you?”

Hertzal remained as quiet as he always did, but shook his head. Two years before, when he and his two sisters had escaped their former homeland of Freedonia, soldiers had killed both their parents. Hertzal, who up until that time has seemed a perfectly normal boy, had lost his voice. And there seemed to be no reason to expect its return any time soon.

“Come in and get warm.” Senta pulled the boy into the house and closed the door after him. “Are you hungry?”

Hertzal shrugged.

Taking this as an affirmative, Senta cut her sandwich in half and gave him the portion with no bite taken out of it.

“I'll put on some tea.”

Hertzal took a bite of the sandwich and smiled with his blue lips closed.

Senta put the pot on the cast iron stove.

“Nothing's wrong, is it?” she asked.

Hertzal shook his head.

“It's only that I don’t see you very often by yourself.”

She crossed back to the stove and sat down.

“What's Hero doing?”

He shrugged.

“Do you know where Graham is?”

He shook his head.

“So... kind of hard to have a conversation with you.”

Hertzal looked down at the table, took a bite of his sandwich and nodded sadly.

“That's okay. Really. I don’t mind.”

The kettle on the stove started to whistle, and Senta went and got it. She transferred the water to a teapot, put loose leaves of tea into an infuser and dropped the infuser into the teapot as well. Then she brought the pot and two cups to the table.

“You know, I bet I can be as quiet as you.”

Hertzal shook his head.

“Let's see. Ready, set.” She silently mouthed the word “go.”

They finished their sandwiches and tea, looking back and forth at one another. Afterwards Hertzal helped Senta take the plates, cups, and teapot to the sink and wash them. Then Senta took him by the hand and led him to the bookcase next to Bessemer’s corner and pulled a wooden box from the bottom shelf. With a flourish, she pointed to the words burned into the top of the box that spelled out “draughts.” Hertzal smiled and they sat down to set up the board and begin the first of several games. By mid-afternoon Hertzal had won six while Senta had won four. He looked at her and cocked his head to the side.

“I didn't let you win!” She slapped both hands to her mouth. “Kafira! You tricked me.”

Hertzal shrugged.

“Are you going to stay for tea?”

Hertzal looked at the ceiling.

“I don't think Zurfina will be down again today. When she goes up to her study, she usually stays a good long while.”

He looked left, right, and then down near his feet.

“No. Bessemer is out hunting or flying or some such.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“No, I'm not worried. Fina says that he's old enough to stay out of trouble.”

He raised the other eyebrow.

“No, I don't believe it either.”

Hertzal jerked his head in the direction of the door.

“I don't think your sister would like it if I came to your house for tea. Honor, I mean. I don't think she likes me.”

He nodded.

“Well, if you're sure.”

Nodding again, the boy got up and began putting on his coat. Senta searched around for her own outer clothing and boots, as well as the snowshoes that Graham had given her. When they were both suitably bundled, they headed out the door into the snow.

“So when are your moving in to your new place?”

Hertzal stared at her.

“You're already there? When did you move in?”

He held up two fingers.

“The day before yesterday? You should have called me. I could have helped you.”

He shrugged.

“Yeah. I guess you guys didn't really have all that much stuff to move. It's like me when I got here. I didn't have anything but my doll and the clothes that Fina gave me.”

Hetzal nodded knowingly.

“You know, I guess it’s not so hard to hold a conversation with you after all.”

Unlike Senta's walk down the same path with Graham four days earlier, this time they encountered no utahraptors, nor any other notable large creatures, only a few bambiraptors that ran into the shelter of the thick azalea bushes growing between the pines as soon as they saw the two humans. The snow was not as thick on the roadway as it had been, but Hertzal glanced enviously at Senta's snowshoes.

“Pretty cool, huh? You should get Mr. Dokkins to make you a pair.” Senta thought about it for a moment and decided that the Hertlings were unlikely to have enough money to buy a pair of snowshoes even at the no doubt discounted price that Graham's father was likely to charge them. “I bet you could even make a pair yourself.”

The boy seemed far from convinced of his own ability to replicate them.

A few snowflakes began to fall just as they reached the new Town Square. The buildings on the east side of town were complete now and Mr. Darwin and Mr. Vever had both moved into their new establishments. The building that was going to be Mrs. Finkler's bakery was almost done, though no workmen were currently on the job.

“It will be nice to have a place to eat out,” mused Senta, stopping to look at the building. “People in Brech eat out all the time. There's a beanery, and restaurants, and Carlo's Cafe. Carlo's had really good food. Did you ever eat at a cafe?”

Hertzal looked like he was trying to remember. He nodded slowly.

“A long time ago, huh? In Freedonia?”

He nodded again.

“What kind of food did they have?”

He shrugged.

“Too long ago to remember.” Senta spoke the sentence for him.

“The diners in the fatherland have the best food in the vorld,” said a voice from behind them. The two children turned around to see Streck standing a few feet away. “You Brechs don't know how to eat. Your food is miserable. In a Freedonian restaurant you have veal and lamb, pork, Potatoes Kasselburg, spargle, and a thousand kinds of wurst. And thankfully, they no longer allow zeets.”

“Why don't you turn around and go back to your worst?” said Senta.

“All in good time, little bit. I have important grown-up business to take care of here in this God-forsaken country. But I will be on my way soon enough. Perhaps you would like to go with me, ja?”

Hertzal stepped in front of Senta protectively.

“I knew zeets were dogs,” sneered Streck, “but I have to admit, I didn't know they could be watch dogs.”

“You watch your mouth!” said Senta.

“Or what? You'll shoot lightning at me? Your Zurfina is not here to stand in for you.”

“Huh?”

“How would you say it in Brechalon—'back you up'? Make people think it is you when all the time it is really her?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I understand. With all the talk of the Drache Girl, hardly anybody talks about Zurfina anymore. Who she is. Where she came from. How did she get out of that gefängnis?”

“What in the name of Kafira's knockers are you talking about?”

“So, the zeets have taught you to blaspheme.” Streck looked like he was biting down on a lemon. “Stay out of my way. You're not fooling anyone.”

Turning on his heel, the Freedonian marched across the square toward the pfennig store. Senta stepped forward next to Hertzal and put her arm around his shoulders. Then with her other hand, she pointed toward Streck's back and said “uuthanum.”

“He's a tosser alright. Zurfina's right though—I don't see a lot of magic on him. Just a bit here and there. You saw that fylfot though, didn't you? That pin on his lapel?”

Hertzal nodded and then scrunched up his nose oddly.

“You're right! He doesn't think I can do magic—not real magic anyways. He thinks Fina is doing it to make me look more advanced than I really am.”

Hertzal smiled and Senta smiled back at him.

The Hertling home was one of many small houses, all of the same type, on the east side of the town. While a few others were completed as well, far more were still under construction. Men and women both worked hammering on roof tiles and hanging doors. They were obviously not hired workmen, but the future residents finishing up their own domiciles. More than a few of them stopped what they were doing to watch the Drache Girl as she passed. Hertzal led Senta through the unfinished yard and in the front door of the Hertling home. The interior of the house was very small and consisted of three rooms. The/ front room, only about eight by twelve feet, served as parlor, dining room, and kitchen. At one end was a cast iron stove, a kitchen counter with a wash basin and spigot, and an empty shelf. At the other end of the room was an old rocking chair and a bookcase filled with a half dozen volumes and two small porcelain flower vases holding carefully cultivated violets. In between were a rough-hewn table and four very simple chairs. The wood planking of the floor was exactly the same wood planking of the walls and the ceiling, but bright light shown in through the four lace curtained windows, and the room was impeccably clean.

Hertzal's older sister Honor smiled as he entered and the smile didn't waver when Senta entered after him. She stood at the kitchen counter, powdered with flower across the front of her apron and a good portion of her face and hair, rolling out dough.

“Hello Senta,” she said. “Come on in and sit down. I'm just getting a pie ready for dinner, but we'll have tea in just a few minutes.”

“What kind of pie is it? Is it going to be a fruit pie? Are you using canned fruit?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” said Honor. “It is going to be a fruit pie, but I'm not going to use canned fruit. It's going to be a persimmon pie.”

“A per-whats-it?”

“Persimmon. We used to have persimmon trees at our old home in Freedonia. Several dozen bushels arrived on the last ship and I purchased a peck.”

“I thought it was too late for fresh fruit.”

“Persimmons come late in the year.”

At that moment one of the two doors in the back of the room opened and Hero stepped out. Seeing Senta, she squealed and bounced happily into her arms.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Hertzal brought me for tea.”

“Thank goodness. I wanted to go to your house and visit, but Honor wouldn't let me out.”

“She has the sniffles and she thinks nothing of spreading the germs around to everyone else in the town,” said her sister.

“Come sit down with me,” said Hero. “I want to show you my new book.”

“Oh, great—a book,” said Senta facetiously as her friend produced a small volume with a brown leather cover.

“Don't be like that. It's Colonel Mormont's journal.”

“Who is Colonel Mormont?” asked Senta.

“He explored all across Mallon more than ten years ago. He wrote all about velociraptors and iguanodons and loads of other animals. He wrote about the lizzies too.”

“The only soldier I care about is Major Frisbee,” said Senta. “He makes damn fine chutney.”

“We don't use that word in this house,” said Honor.

“Chutney?”

“The d-word.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You care about Saba Colbshallow, don't you?” asked Hero slyly.

“Saba is very nice,” said Senta, “but you know my heart belongs to only one boy.”

“Anyway,” continued Hero. “Colonel Mormont has a lot to say about the tyrannosauruses. When he encountered them, they hunted in packs, running around and gobbling up everything in their paths. They sound truly horrifying.”

“The one that we have is scary enough,” said Honor.

“Down on the plains by Sussthek, I saw a pack of them,” said Senta. “They were following a herd of these really great long-necked dinosaurs. They hardly even noticed us.”

“That sounds just like what the Colonel was talking about. Listen to this... 'the tyrannosaurus is the larger and more frightening relative of the coastal gorgosaurus of western Mallon. Notable for its hideously red face atop a black body, the creature hunts in packs that scour the land...”

Hero kept reading on, but Senta's mind had wandered back to her encounter with Streck. She didn't know why it should bother her that he didn't believe she could do magic, but it did. He was just so smug—so Freedonian. She began to think about how much fun it would be to annoy him, and as Hero continued reading, she decided that the rest of her winter might not be so boring if she made it her hobby to do so.

“Tea is ready,” said Honor, calling everyone to the table.

Honor, with Hertzal quietly helping her, had laid out a very nice tea. A plate of sliced, smoked sausages sat next to a matching plate filled with boiled potatoes. A small bowl of mustard sat across from a mismatched bowl of chutney—home made, not Major Frisbee's. And each of the four diners had a plate with two small grilled cheese and apple sandwiches and a bowl of winter squash soup.

“This is really ace,” said Senta, tucking in to her soup. “Is this Freedonian food?”

“Well, we are from Freedonia,” said Honor, “so I guess this would qualify as Freedonian food.”

“Maybe that Streck knows what he's talking about... at least as far as food is concerned.”

“Who's Streck?” asked Hero.

“Is that Professor Calliere's Freedonian solicitor?” asked Honor.

“I guess so,” said Senta. “He's a wanker.”

Hertzal made an up and down motion with his hand and Honor reached over and slapped him on the wrist. “We don't say that word either.”

“Sorry. I should have said 'tosser'.”

“Or that word! Meine Güte, that entire topic is verboten am tisch.”

“Sorry. What does 'am tisch' mean?”

“At the table,” said Hero.

“Oh.” Senta took a bite of her sandwich.

“I can see how you might not like Mr. Streck,” said Honor carefully after composing herself. “He's one of those Nationalistische Demokraten. They are the ones who blame the Zaeri for everything they think is wrong with Freedonia.”

“Yeah, he thinks he's a wizard too,” said Senta.

“He's a wizard?”

“He thinks he is.”

“That is troubling,” said Honor. “The Freedonian wizards, the ones that belong to the Reine Zauberei, they are the worst. If he is really one of them, and he is here in Birmisia, then that is bad. I hope someone is keeping an eye on him.”

“I'm sure that somebody will,” said Senta. She was thinking of herself, but as she would find out later, she wasn't the only one planning to keep tabs on Mr. Streck.

“I wonder what the new Mrs. Dechantagne thinks of him,” said Hero.

“That's right,” replied Senta. “She's a Zaeri, isn't she?”

Honor made a noncommittal noise.

After tea, Senta made her goodbyes to the Hertling family. Honor wanted her to stay until she could get one or more of the neighborhood men to walk her home, but Senta wouldn't hear of it. Hertzal made signs indicating that he would walk her home himself, but she waved him off as well.

“Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. And no offense, but if anything comes along that I can't handle, I doubt that any of your neighbors could.”

“You're probably right,” said Honor, sounding unconvinced. “But do be careful.”

“I'll come by tomorrow and see you, Hero,” said Senta, donning her snowshoes. “You can read me more about Colonel Marmalade.”

“Colonel Mormont,” corrected Hero.

“Right. Well, toodle-pip.”

Senta crossed the snowy yard and turned back from the roadside to wave at the three siblings who looked back at her from the open door. Then she turned west down the road. The day seemed just as cold and grey as it had earlier, though the sun had peeked out from among the clouds. The men and women who had been working on their almost finished homes had for the most part gone. No doubt they were enjoying their tea back in their apartments or temporary housing. There were still quite a few people living in tents on the peninsula, despite the almost continuous construction in the colony.

Just over a mile from the Hertling house, Senta stopped to stare at the Dechantagne mansion. The largest building in Birmisia, as far as Senta knew, had smoke pouring from all fourteen of its chimneys and was buzzing with lizzie servants. Still it was a far cry from the Dechantagne house in Brech, which had been four stories and had taken up most of a city block. Senta thought back to her days of watching that house and the people in it. It seemed impossible that it had only been two years ago.

The big lizzie standing in front of the house opened the door and Captain Dechantagne stepped out and carefully made his way across the portico, to sit down in a large rattan chair. He crossed his legs, then lifted his chin and cocked his head as if he was listening to the sounds around him. Senta listened too. There were the constant chirps of the earliest returning small birds in the trees and the occasional squawk of a larger Birmisian bird. A few minutes later, Professor Calliere stepped outside, followed by Streck. They took places near Terrence, Streck sitting in another chair and the professor leaning against one of the great two-story columns. Senta was too far away to make out any conversation that the three men might be engaged in, at least without magic. She had not yet learned a clairaudience spell, though it was certainly no more difficult than lightning or even a fireball. She wasn't that interested anyway, she decided. Still, simple spells could be just as much fun. She pointed her right index finger and twirled it around.

“Uuthanum,” she said, and though it was too far away to see, she knew that Streck's shoelaces had untied themselves and then tied themselves to each other.

With a smile on her lips, she slid (as skipping was impossible in show shoes) down the road toward the Town Square. A giggle escaped her lips when she thought about the Freedonian getting up and tripping over his own shoelaces. Now, being able to see that when it happened, even if she was somewhere else at the time would be a great reason to know a clairvoyance spell. She made a mental note to tell Zurfina that she would like to learn that spell next. Of course exactly what it was that the sorceress saw when she looked deep into Senta's eyes and exactly how that influenced what spell that she taught her, was a mystery to Senta. It had occurred to her a few times that Fina didn't see anything at all—that she was just doing the looking in the eyes thing to seem mysterious.

Just east of the square, Senta turned down a northern side road and stopped to look at another fine home. This particular two-story house fit the description of mansion just as much as the Dechantagne home did, though it was less than half the size. It had a row of very thick Zurian style columns running all across the front and the fresh paint was so white that it actually made the snow seem dull by comparison. Four or five humans and at least a dozen lizzies were carrying crate after crate into the house from a large pile sitting at the edge of the yard. A few pieces of furniture sat there as well. Senta knew that this house belonged to Egeria Lusk, but she didn't see her. As she stood watching the workers however, they one after another stopped what they were doing to watch her. The men—she didn't recognize them—just watched her, but the lizzies hunkered down and rolled their eyes at her. She stuck out her tongue at them and then went on her way.

In Town Square she spied Aalwijn Finkler setting up several chairs around three tables that sat on a small patio outside the almost completed bakery. Senta slid across the square and stopped next to him.

“So you're going to serve people outside?”

Aalwijn started and turned around.

“Oh, I didn't see you Senta.”

“I used to work at Cafe Carlo in Brech. It was an indoor and outdoor cafe, you know.”

“We too will have dining both indoors and outdoors.”

“What kind of food are you going to have? Sandwiches? I like sandwiches.”

“Yes. Sandwiches and soups. You know my mother is famous for her breads and cakes.”

“Yes,” said Senta. “I love her bread.”

“Well she makes many other wonderful things. We'll have soups and sandwiches and salads and we'll only serve whatever she feels like making. Nobody will tell her what to make.” He stopped and took a breath. “She was a cook back home in Bangdorf, you know.”

Senta shrugged.

“You should have seen the meals that she made there. Of course all the food back home was wonderful. It would put Brech food to shame.”

“That's what I keep hearing,” said Senta. “I like fish and chips though. I like bangers and mash. I used to like toad in the hole, but not so much anymore.”

Aalwijn rolled his eyes.

“Fish and chips are fine, but you should taste mother's trout almondine. Köstlich!”

“I don't know what that means.”

“Sorry. Delicious.” Aalwijn scratched his head. “You know I almost never speak Freedonian anymore.”

“Yeah. You don't really have much of an accent, you know. Hero and Hertzal and Honor have a lot more accent than you do.”

“Hertzal?” asked Aalwijn, cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah.”

“But he doesn't talk, does he?”

“Oh yeah. I guess I just imagine him with an accent. So when are you going to open for business.”

“Mother's already using the big oven to make bread and cakes for the cart. I think we'll start selling bread from the counter next week. It may take a while before we open for menu service. It takes a lot of planning. We have to arrange purchasing and maybe hire a waitress.”

“I know a couple of girls who might be looking for work,” Senta said, but she was already tired of the intricacies of the restaurant business, and started looking around. One of the workmen that she had seen at Egeria Lusk's house, followed by two lizzies entered the square heading toward the great gate.

“Did you see Miss Lusk's house was finished?”

“Yes. It took a bit longer than she was planning on. They say there was a problem with the wallpaper.”

“Didn't stick?” wondered Senta.

“I think that there wasn't as much of it as there was supposed to be,” Aalwijn replied. “Still, they must have worked it all out. They've been moving furnishings in for days now. I didn't think anyone in Birmisia had so many things.”

“I guess we'll get our invitation to tea soon.”

Aalwijn raised his eyebrows.

“She said that she would invite us both to tea when her house was finished.”

“I'm sure that she has forgotten all about that.”

“I bet she hasn't forgotten,” said Senta. “Miss Lusk doesn't forget anything. She's a genius, you know.”

“Yes, she's pretty smart for a woman,” said Aalwijn. “Say, that's a nice dress you have on today.”

Senta hadn't really paid much attention to what she was wearing. It was just one more thing that Zurfina had laid out for her in the morning. It was just one more black dress. This one was rather tight but otherwise unremarkable. It hand long sleeves that flared on the ends and the bottom flared out to match, just above Senta's shoes.

“Well, Zurfina picked it out.”

Aalwijn nodded. “Yes, my mother still wants to pick out my clothes too.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I'm going to get back to work,” said Aalwijn.

“Yeah. Toodles.”

Senta hurried down the road toward her home. She was just about halfway there when she spotted it. Just sticking out of the trees, more than twelve feet above the ground was a massive, blood red, scarred, blocky head. Whether the tyrannosaurus was watching and waiting for something to come along the road that it could pounce out upon, or it was just resting in a spot that happened to be next to the road, Senta didn't know, but there it was as big as life. Bigger really. The black body was hard to make out amid the shadows of the pine trees, but judging by that big ugly face, it had to be more than fifty feet long. Senta immediately ran off the road and jumped into the thick forest opposite the frightening beast. The tyrannosaurus didn't move. Either it wasn't interested in food right now or it wasn't interested in something so small.

After a few minutes standing in the shadow of the trees, waist-deep in a snow drift, Senta started to cast an endure elements spell upon herself. She opened her mouth to say the words, but stopped. If she was going to cast a spell, she might as well take the opportunity to try out something a bit more special. Zurfina had told her to practice out of doors. Stepping to the edge of the forest, Senta planted her feet and pointed her hand at the great beast's ugly face.

“Uuthanum uluchaiia uluthiuth,” she said.

A sphere of flame formed just beyond her hand. Only two inches across, it surged and swirled there for a second, then shot toward the huge predator. As it flew through the air, it grew to a diameter of twenty feet. It hit the tyrannosaurus, centered right on its eye and exploded in all directions, engulfing the upper portion of the beast. The creature roared in surprise, pain, and anger as dozens of trees around it burst into flames as well. Leaping with a dexterity that seemed beyond the realm of possibility, it flew from the flaming forest and into the center of the road, whipping around in a circle as if looking for something to attack.

Suddenly a tremendous pain shot through Senta's brain. She reached up to grab her temple, not even realizing that she was falling onto her back in the snow. The world spun around and for a moment she saw a fireball flying toward her, exploding, and knocking her back into a stream of cold water. Was this a memory? Was she remembering what had happened by the stream, when Wizard Kesi attacked Zurfina? Or was this happening right now?

She pulled herself up onto her elbow. The tyrannosaurus had turned and was striding away down the road. It would be miles and miles away in just a few minutes. The trees where the fireball had burst were still on fire, but the flames were fading away. It was far too wet to allow the fire to spread. Dropping her head back in the snow, she touched her hand to her nose and saw a smear of blood when she pulled it away. She looked up to see a flash of steel on a branch high up in the tree.

“Are you going to help me or not?” she asked.

Bessemer climbed down the trunk of the pine tree head first, stopping just a few feet above her.

“I’m just a little kid,” said the dragon, holding a here-to-fore unseen wooden toy pony in his scaly hand.

“Yeah. Me too. That was a lot bigger than the fire in the stove. Maybe it was too much for me. ”

“You are not Fina,” said the dragon.

“Thanks.”

Senta pulled herself to her feet and staggered through the snow to the street, Bessemer following at her heel like a shiny steel-colored dog. Her head was still spinning slightly and she didn't even notice that she had lost her snowshoes at the edge of the trees. She was almost at the door to her home when Saba Colbshallow came running up.

Chapter Eight: Saba the Spy

The S. S. Windemere didn't arrive until Festuary eighth. It had been waylaid in the Mulliens with a damaged boiler. Still, Saba Colbshallow had been at the docks to meet it and one passenger in particular. Mr. Brockton didn't look like a secret agent, not that Saba knew what a secret agent looked like. He was a short, slight man in his mid-forties with a brown handlebar mustache and thinning hair beneath a brown bowler hat. He looked over Saba for a moment then shook hands.

“Governor Dechantagne-Calliere asked me to meet you and see that you have a place to stay,” said Saba.

“Very good,” said Brockton in a thin nasal voice. “She indicated in her correspondence that she would send a representative that had her complete trust.”

Saba tried not to let his surprise show.

“I've got you an apartment on the militia base.”

“Won't that be suspicious?”

“Probably less than rooming anywhere else, unless you want to spend the next week in a tent,” said Saba. “Those are basically the two options for new arrivals. We don't have a hotel or rooming house yet, though there are a few people who let rooms. The apartments and rental houses have quite a long waiting list.”

“The militia base it is then,” said Brockton with a thin smile.

Saba led the way up the hill from the dockyards.

“I'm going to need a day to get my land legs back,” said Brockton. “Why don't we plan on meeting tomorrow and I'll go over what the governor needs to know with you then.”

Saba nodded. “Fine. I'll have some supper sent over if you like?”

“Good.”

The following afternoon just before tea, Saba met Brockton outside the building that had been designed to eventually be part of the base's barracks but which, since its construction, had been divided into ten small apartments.

“The best place to eat is back at the dockyard,” he said.

Brockton raised an eyebrow.

“They have food carts.”

Making their way down the hill, they took their place in the queue for sausages. Then they sat down on a bench at the northern edge of the gravel yard and ate the thick sausages, which were served on a stick.

“Not much in the way of dining in Birmisia, eh?” said Brockton, then waved off Saba's reply. “I expected as much really. I ate so much on the voyage that I probably gained ten pounds anyway. This is fine, and so were the fish and chips you sent up last evening.”

“Good. So what is the information you want me to relay to Governor Dechantagne-Calliere?”

“She is aware, though you might not be, that I am with His Majesty's Secret Service. We have people working around the world, but right now our focus is in Freedonia.”

“Aren't we at peace?”

“Ostensibly. But a great many things can happen. And I don't mean war, at least I don't mean just war.”

“What else?” asked Saba.

“Klaus II fancies himself a wizard and he's immersed himself in the wahre kunst von zauberei. As a result, the wizards of the Reine Zauberei have replaced most of the non-wizards in key positions in the Freedonian government.”

“Don't we have quite a few wizards of our own?” asked Saba. “Yourself for instance?”

Brockton smiled a thin smile.

“Well spotted young Corporal. I'm a first level journeyman from Académie Argei. But you have to understand, these Reine Zauberei are not just wizards. They have their own peculiar ideas.”

“Their magic is different?”

“No, as a matter of fact their magic is almost identical to my own. It is their belief system that is different. They believe that the Freedonians are the master race and that they are destined to rule the world.”

“Isn't that sort of jingoism pretty common?” asked Saba. “After all, patriotism is a great thing, as long as the fellow who has it is from the same country that you are. I know quite a few Brechs who think that if you're not Brech, you're nothing.”

“Do they want to kill everyone else in the world?”

“Um, no.”

“There you see the difference. These Reine Zauberei believe that everyone else must serve the Freedonians or be eliminated. Completely.”

“But that's just insane.”

“Yes it is.”

“And it's not possible.”

“There you may be mistaken. They've already started their plan. The first victims are the Zaeri.”

“I know they've been treating the Zaeri badly—forcing them out of their homes and such. The Zaeri have been treated horribly for centuries though—in Brech and Mirsanna too, not just in Freedonia.”

“There is more to it than that. In fact the Freedonians have stopped chasing the Zaeri out of the country and are now rounding them up and putting them in forced labor camps. And there are rumors of other camps—camps where the Zaeri and others are being murdered by the hundreds.”

“That can't be true,” said Saba.

“We don't know for sure whether it is or not.” Brockton took the last bite of his sausage and tossed the stick at the dustbin next to the bench.

Saba looked at his half eaten meal and decided that he didn't want anymore.

“So what do you want with the governor?” he asked.

“There are several things actually. First she has been, for her own reasons, chartering ships to bring displaced Zaeri from Freedonia, here to Birmisia. We want her to continue, and we are willing to subsidize her if necessary.

“Secondly, we believe the Freedonians are up to something here. We would like her help in finding out what that is. We don't have the resources to send one of our operatives here for any length of time.”

“You've come.”

“Yes, but only for a short while, a bit shorter than I had planned actually, thanks to the Windermere's boiler. In two weeks I'll take the Osprey west to Mallontah. We have more pressing problems there. We believe the Freedonians are arming the locals and encouraging them to attack our people.”

“Anything else?” asked Saba.

“Yes. She needs to keep an eye on her husband.”

“The professor? Why would she need to do that?”

“We believe he has some Freedonian sympathies, as well as some Freedonian connections going way back. And considering the potency of some of his work...”

“You mean the Result Mechanism?”

“Precisely. Even discounting its use to create magical equations, it is a powerful device. I don't think that anyone has divined its true potential yet, and my superiors are inclined to agree with me.”

Saba thought about what he knew of the Result Mechanism. It was a huge machine, looking as though someone had mated a steam engine with an enormous clockwork, and Professor Calliere had brought it all the way from Brechalon. In essence, it was a machine that added and subtracted numbers very quickly. Miss Lusk, who had created the language that it used to communicate with humans, had used the device to create a plan for the entire colony, including where it was best to lay waterlines and where it was most advantageous to build a trolley. A wizard named Suvir Kesi had used the machine to craft magic spells, which he used to attack Zurfina. Magic, so Saba had been told, was at its core nothing but mathematics.

“So you think that someone could use it the way Kesi did against Zurfina?” he asked.

“What?”

“I'm sorry. I assumed you knew about Wizard Kesi using it in his attack on Zurfina the Magnificent.”

“I know about Wizard Kesi, but I've never heard of this Zurrurrah.”

“Zurfina,” corrected Saba.

“What?”

“Zurfina.”

“Zurrah? I'm sorry. Are you speaking the local dialect?”

Saba scratched his head.

“It was my understanding that Zurfina the Magnificent was quite well known among magic users.”

“What were you saying about Kesi?” asked Brockton, clearly confused.

“Nothing,” said Saba. “I'll meet with the governor and then we can meet again.”

Saba left Brockton in the dockyard and wandered up the hill and through the apartments to the great gate and the Town Square beyond. He didn't know where he was headed until he spied the pfennig store and he suddenly realized that he needed something to wash the bad taste out of his mouth. That bad taste had not come from Mrs. Gopling’s sausages.

As soon he opened the door of the shop, Saba was blasted by music playing inside. It was loud enough that Mr. Parnorsham didn't hear the bell ring, and as he was stacking up cans of butter biscuits behind the counter, he didn't realize that he had a customer until he turned around. By that time Saba had made his way all the way to the back of the store. Mr. Parnorsham jumped a bit when he saw the young militiaman.

“Oh, hello Saba,” he said over the sound of the music.

Suddenly a high-pitched female singer chimed in along with the music.

The afternoon was lazy,

Everything was still,

The skies were blue and hazy,

When you gave me a thrill.

You said you were looking for Sadie,

Without her you would be blue,

You said you would never forget her,

I said I'll be Sadie for you.

“That's a bit scandalous,” said Saba.

“Yes it is,” said Mr. Parnorsham with a sly smile. “I'll turn it off if a lady comes in.”

“Can you turn it down a tad?”

“Right-oh.” And once the volume had been adjusted. “What can I do for you, young corporal?”

“Do you have a cold Billingbow's?”

“Of course." The proprietor retrieved a frosty bottle of the soda water from the icebox behind the counter. “Twenty-two p with the bottle deposit.”

“You don't send all those bottles back to Brechalon, do you?”

“Oh, goodness no. Billingbow's sends its soda water in airtight casks. I have to fill the bottles. I'm going to have to order a new shipment of bottles though. People keep forgetting to return them. You would think that two pfennigs would be encouragement enough.”

“Remind some of the local kids that they can bring the bottles in a get two p each. That could add up quick.”

“Yes, that's a good idea,” said Mr. Parnorsham, taking out a cloth towel and absentmindedly wiping his counter.

Outside, Saba leaned against the side of the building and swigged his soda. There wasn't much going on that he could see. Most people had gone home for their tea. He strolled over to Mr. Darwin's shop and looked in the window. There was quite an array of dinosaur skin belts and bags and an umbrella stand filled with very large colorful feathers. Saba recognized some of them as utahraptor feathers—bright turquoise colored fading to a lovely green. Turning around, he saw one other person outside in the square. Aalwijn Finkler was staring at several tables and chairs set up by his mother's bakery.

Saba strode across the gravel square and walked up to the boy.

“Can't figure out how to arrange them?”

“Sorry? No. This is fine. Um, I'm just lost in thought.”

“Thinking about anything in particular?”

“I was just wondering if I should let my mother pick out my clothes.”

“Really?”

“Well, um yeah. That and girls.”

“Oh, well, that is quite a topic...”

At that moment the most horrific sound that Saba had ever heard rent the air. He knew that it was the tyrannosaurus, but it wasn't its normal cry. It was a scream that was filled with more rage and hate than a human being could possibly understand. It was like something escaping the pits of hell. He felt a shiver running down his spine.

“Kafira’s Cross, that's right behind this building. Get inside.”

“We've got to go down there!” said Aalwijn, pointing down the road to the west. Saba thought that he must be scared witless. He would walk right into the giant dinosaur.

“Not bloody likely. Not without a squad of men, and a really big gun.”

“Senta just went down that road!” yelled Aalwijn.

“You stay here!” called Saba, and throwing down his half empty bottle, he took off at a full run.

The first fifty yards were full adrenaline. He had to save a young girl from a monster. But in the second fifty yards, he had time to recall that he had absolutely no weapon with which to face down the most fearsome creature on the continent. And at the end of that second fifty yards, he saw it directly in front of him—the largest and scariest creature that he had seen in his entire life. It was turning around and around in the center of the road. Without slowing down, Saba dived into the trees. He didn't stop, but continued in the same direction, the deep snowdrifts and the brush that the snow obscured making the going slow.

When he judged that he had reached the approximate location of the creature, he moved back toward the road. Peering out from between the trees, he found the road empty. As he warily moved back out of the forest, he noticed for the first time that the trees on the opposite side were burning. Though the flames were dying, dozens of trees had been charred by fire. Looking at the ground Saba saw the tyrannosaurus's tracks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and then leading off to the west. Following them with his eyes, he spotted Senta, her black clothing a stark contrast to the white countryside. She was a hundred yards further up the road. He called to her, but she gave no indication that she had heard him, so he began to jog after her. By the time that he reached her, she was almost at her door. Only then did he notice that the little dragon was by her side.

“Senta?”

She turned around shakily and Saba was startled to see the bottom half of her face smeared with blood.

“Are you alright?”

She pondered the question for a moment. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Can I help you?”

“No. I'm going inside.” She opened the door. “Come on Bessemer.”

“I want to talk to you,” said Saba.

“Tomorrow.” Then she closed the door.

Then next morning Saba thought about going to see Senta first thing, but the memory of the way she looked stopped him. Better to give her a few days to recover. Instead he made his way to the palatial Dechantagne home, but as he reached the top of the steps he found his way blocked by a massive lizzie with a medallion on a ribbon around its neck.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The brute just stood there.

“Tisson, isn't it? Step aside please.”

The lizzie rolled its yellow eyes around for a moment and then carefully shook its head left and right.

“What?”

“No,” said the lizzie.

“You bloody well get out of my way!”

“No,” said the lizzie, so quietly he was barely audible.

Saba shoved his finger in the reptilian’s chest.

“Listen you! I'm here to see the governor and you're going to get out of my way right now!”

Suddenly his mother was coming out the front door behind the monstrous lizardman. Next to him, she seemed a tiny woman indeed.

“What's going on here? Why all this yelling?”

“Mother, this great buffoon won't let me in?” Saba suddenly felt like a small child telling on someone.

“Tisson, get out of the way. You know Saba is my son. Let him in.”

“No,” said the lizardman. “Lady governor say ‘No. No today.’”

Both Mrs. Colbshallow and her son stood mutely for a moment.

“Are you serious,” she finally asked Tisson.

He bobbed his head up and down.

“What did you do?” hissed Mrs. Colbshallow at Saba.

“I didn't do anything, Mother.” His voice sounded too whiny in his ears.

“Well, why don't you go on back to the base? I'll have a word with Mrs. C and find out what's going on.”

“But Mother...”

“Go on now.” She shooed him away with her apron.

“I've got my eye on you, you great tosser,” growled Saba at Tisson, pointing at his own eye.

He stomped down the stairs and across the lawn only to find Senta standing beside the gate. She had on a new overcoat that completely covered any clothes that she was wearing, not that it was a great stretch to imagine that they were black. Though she didn't have any obvious injuries, she had a hollow look in her eye. Saba had seen something very like it in the eyes of soldiers who had fought the lizzies—the look of someone who just discovered their own mortality.

“You didn't need to hunt me down. I would have come to your house.”

“So you think I came all the way over here for you then?” She smiled, chasing the other look out of her eyes.

“Well, yes... I did… right until you just asked me if I did.”

“Maybe I did. I do recall that you said you wanted to talk to me. Are you going to expect me to talk back as well?”

Saba grinned. “You’re sounding more like Zurfina all the time.”

“So what was all the commotion up on the porch?”

“That bloody lizzie wouldn't let me in the door.”

“The great Corporal Colbshallow is on the outs with Mrs. Government? That's hard to believe. You want me to do something to him? I could make him break out in a rash.”

“Yeah, that would be... no, better not on second thought. We could really get in trouble with Mrs. Govern... um, Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere.”

“You sure?”

“Say, did you try to set that tyrannosaurus on fire?”

Saba was immediately sorry that he had asked the question. She shrugged and the hollow look crept back into her eyes.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well I wanted to know if you and Zurfina... if the two of you knew there was a wizard in town.”

“Two wizards,” said Senta. “Well, one and a half.”

“You don't mean you, do you?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I'm a sorceress’s apprentice. Sorceress. Not wizard.”

“What do I know? So, there are two wizards in town, um, one and a half?”

“There's the wanker that's staying here,” said Senta, pointing a thumb toward the Dechantagne house.

Saba thought for a minute. “That Freedonian? Struck? Streck?”

Senta nodded. “And there's the new fellow that came in on the Windermere.”

“Brockton,” said Saba. “So you know about him.”

“Fina says she can't feel any real magic on Streck, but she felt that Brockton miles away.”

“Did she do something to him?”

“Just a little opfrustration.”

“Obfuscation?”

“Yeah. She says that enough people know about her already.”

“He's going to be alright otherwise, isn't he? The governor and well, the king are going to need him.”

“I expect he'll be fine, except for knowing about Fina.”

“Good.”

Saba was just about to make his goodbye and head back to the base, when the sounds of men talking came from the front of the great house. He glanced over to see Professor Calliere and Mr. Streck stepping out onto the portico, and noticed unhappily that Tisson held the door open for them. Suddenly Streck took a tumble head first down the steps. Senta burst out laughing. Saba couldn't help himself and chuckled along with her, watching as the Professor and Tisson ran down to help the Freedonian up.

“Does he do that often?” he asked the girl.

“As often as possible,” she said.

Back at the base, Saba plopped himself down with one of the few Rikkard Banks Tatum novels that he had not yet read. The Wild Woman had made the trip all the way from Brechalon, but Saba had to wait for a dozen others to read it before it was handed down to him. No sooner had he gotten comfortable that there was a knock at his door. Getting up, he opened it to find a lizzie standing outside, her yellow skirt indicating a female of the species.

“Cissy, isn't it?”

“Yew Sada.”

“Yes, I know who I am. What do you want?”

The reptilian handed him an envelope, and started to turn around.

“Hold on,” he said. He fished out a pfennig from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here.”

After the lizzie had left, he opened the envelope to find a note from his mother. It read: “Meet Mrs. C at the Mayor's office 9AM on the 13th. Don't come by the house until then. Love, Mother.”

It was just as well that Saba didn't meet the governor the following day. He had to run physical training drills on the new militiamen. New militiamen were only required to serve six months, yet there were more than two hundred militiamen and a new group of forty inductees had started on the first of the month. Saba put them through a series of calisthenics, followed by a two-mile run with a full pack. Six of them passed out before returning to the base. That didn't mean they were out though. They would have ample opportunity to prove themselves, and if they couldn't meet the physical requirements of the job, they would be given lighter duty in the colonial government.

At afternoon tea, Saba was cornered by Eamon Shrubb.

“What have you been up to?” asked Shrubb.

“Running with the new recruits.”

“I mean besides that. I haven't seen you for a few days.”

“Are you keeping track of me?” asked Saba. “People are going to think you're a spy.”

“Nothing like that,” said Shrubb. “Just wondering.”

“This spy business is going to turn me into a paranoid ass,” said Saba to himself, when Shrubb had wandered away. Still, he thought that it might be wise to watch out for the private who liked to follow him to the governor's home.

The next day was the twelfth and Saba spent most of the day relaxing. He stayed on his bunk and read The Wild Woman, walking down the hill for fish and chips at lunchtime, skipping tea entirely, and eating in the mess for supper. It was bangers and mash night.

At 9:00 in the morning on the thirteenth, Saba stepped into the Mayor's Office. Miss Gertz, the mayor's secretary smiled at him. She could have been considered pretty, though she wore horn-rimmed glasses and she had her black hair pulled back into a tight bun. She ushered him past her desk to the mayor's private office. Mayor Korlann was absent, but in his place sat Governor Dechantagne-Calliere. She looked as beautiful as Saba had ever seen her, in a charcoal dress with puffed sleeves and white lace around the neck.

“Good morning Governor.”

“Good morning.”

“I wanted to see you the other day, but your lizzie wouldn't let me in the house.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. C, stopping to purse her lips. “I thought it would be best if you didn't come to the house directly after meeting with Brockton. Of course I had no idea that you would cause such a scene, obviating any attempted stealth on my part.”

“Um, sorry.”

“So, what did Brockton tell you?”

Saba went over his entire conversation with the wizard from the Secret Service. Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere smiled when he mentioned the possibility that ships from Freedonia might be subsidized, but scowled at the mention of her husband's name. He also threw in the information he gleaned from his contact with Senta concerning the possibility of Mr. Streck being a wizard.

“You will meet with Brockton again,” she said. “As for the ships from Freedonia, they will continue, but you may tell him that subsidies would be appreciated. As for my husband, he is not to worry. Mercy is not interested in dealing with the Freedonian government and if some of them might try to take advantage of him, well, we will be there to see that it doesn't happen.”

“What about Streck?” asked Saba.

“You will watch him when he is out of my house. While he is inside the house, I have someone else who will watch him.”

“I have other duties at the base.”

“No, you don't,” said Mrs. C, picking up her muff and sliding one hand into it. “Not anymore.”

She opened the office door and left Saba standing where he was. He took a deep breath and let it out. So be it. Stepping out of the office, he stopped and leaned on Miss Gertz's desk absentmindedly.

“Can I help you with something, Corporal?”

“What?”

“Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, Miss Gertz. Would you care to join me for lunch today?”

Chapter Nine: The Ruin

The Dechantagne dining room table looked extremely empty this morning. Mrs. Godwin was in her usual spot, as was Mrs. Colbshallow. Professor Calliere was there and his solicitor Mr. Streck was still visiting. Yuah sat to the right of her husband. But there were four empty chairs. Saba Colbshallow had not stopped by for breakfast with his mother for several days and the empty spot so often filled with an ad-hoc dining guest was unoccupied. Little Iolana was sleeping in and so was not in her highchair. But it was Iolanthe's absence which made the table seem much emptier than it would if anyone else happened to be gone. It was quite a boring meal, aside from Mr. Streck spilling his tea in his lap. Yuah was picking at her eggs, sausages, and white pudding not because of her sister-in-law's absence, but because of the unpleasant cramping she felt in her abdomen.

After the family had finished breakfast and everyone got up from the table, Yuah took Terrence's arm.

“Where did you want to go?” she asked.

“Blind man or no, I can find my way around my own house.”

“I'm sure you can. I was just trying to be helpful.” She let go of his arm. “I suppose you are going to the parlor to just sit.”

“I don't know. What are you going to do?”

“I thought I would go upstairs and lie down for a bit.”

“Do you want company?” he asked, smiling suggestively.

“No I don't, you horrible, insatiable man.”

“You didn't want me just sitting around in the parlor.”

“I'm going upstairs to lie down because I have a headache,” said Yuah.

“I don't think I'm any more insatiable than any other man.”

“If that is true,” she said, leaving him at the bottom of the stairs, “then your whole race is horrible.”

At the top of the stairs, Yuah turned left. It was a short walk past the balcony on the left side and Mrs. Colbshallow's room and the nursery on the right. Her own room was at the end of the hallway. She thought of it as her own room despite the fact that Terrence shared it with her. Neither was inclined to follow the custom among the upper class of having separate bedrooms for husband and wife. She was already looking at wallpaper and other furnishings, though she had to do so from catalogs brought all the way from Brechalon. She knew she wanted pink with lots of lace and she knew that her brass bed would have curtains around it that matched the curtains on the window. At this moment though the bed was a simple wooden frame holding up a single very simple mattress and the only curtains on the windows were a pair of old sheets that she had cut and hemmed.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and tossed herself back upon it, her arms stretched out above her head. The ceiling above her was smooth white plaster, just like the bare walls. She felt another tug in her abdomen. It was the thirteenth of Festuary. She had been married for twenty-three days. She and Terrence had already been together as man and wife at least fifteen times. Yuah was sure that was more than most people did it in their entire lifetime. Why wasn't she pregnant already? Who could she ask about it? She could ask Mrs. C or Mrs. G, but then she would have to look at them every day after having asked them. Mrs. Bratihn might be a good person to talk to about it. She'd been married twice and had several children. Or maybe Mrs. Leubking.

The baby started to cry in the next room, and Yuah pulled herself up and walked in to check on her. She turned the corner in the nursery and jumped as she saw the reptilian creature leaning over the crib. But the tiny yellow fringe of a skirt told her that it was one of the nanny lizzies.

“You there. What are you doing? Which one are you?”

The lizzies didn’t seem to startle the way the humans so often did, but even so the creature turned around quickly. As soon as it did, she could tell by the coloring that it was the one called Kheesie. The creature rolled its eyes around in a way that Yuah was beginning to recognize as fear, or at least nervousness. Stepping quickly past Kheesie, Yuah looked down into the crib. Iolana was red-faced with anger at having her diaper changed, but was otherwise unhurt.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said.

Cleaning the baby’s bottom with the washrag, she tossed it and the old diaper into the ceramic chamber pot under the crib, which she then handed to the lizzie. She powdered Iolana and then pinned on a new diaper. Picking up the still crying child, she pressed her to her shoulder and turned around to find the lizardman still there.

“Are you going to stand there looking stupid all day, or are you going to take that out and empty it?”

Kheesie stared blankly.

“Take it out!” and as the creature hurried out of the room, she called after her, “And clean it properly.”

She patted Iolana on the back and bounced her up and down.

“It’s so hard to find good help.” Then she burst out laughing at herself. How quickly she was turning into Iolanthe. My, what a horrible thought.

She pulled the baby away from her shoulder and looked into her face. Iolana was giving her a puzzled look in return.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know Auntie Yuah. I’m your favorite.”

Iolana blew a spit bubble.

“Look at you, you are so advanced. Already walking and now you’re going to talk to Auntie Yuah, aren’t you?”

The child made a valiant effort at speaking by saying “boo-uh.”

“Everyone knows who you belong to, don’t they? You have your mother’s eyes, you do. I don’t know about the rest of you though. Your nose and mouth don’t really look like her or your father. Come to that, I don’t really see any of your father in you.”

Iolana gooed in reply.

Sitting down in the rocking chair to the right of the crib, Yuah sat the baby on her knee and began rocking back and forth. Iolana let her auntie rock her for only a few minutes, and then wiggled down to the floor. She dropped down to all fours and crawled around the room, but finding nothing interesting there, Iolana used the corner of the crib to climb to her feet and took off out the door.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Yuah, chasing after her. “You’ll take a tumble down the stairs.”

She and Iolana both almost ran into Kheesie near the top of the staircase as the lizzie was returning with the chamber pot.

“Take her down to the kitchen and have Mrs. C make her a bottle, then maybe you take her for a walk around the garden.”

“Yes,” responded the lizzie, who scooping up the child, took her in to the nursery where she dropped off the now clean chamber pot. Then she carried the child downstairs.

Yuah went back to her bedroom to lie down and this time she did doze off. When she woke up, for a moment she didn’t know where she was. She had been dreaming that she was back home in her room in the Dechantagne house in Brech. Slowly awareness returned to her that this was a different room in a different Dechantagne house—one in which she was one of the Dechantagnes. Sitting up, she looked toward the doorway and saw the hulking form of a lizzie just outside.

“Kheesie,” she called. But when the lizzie turned around and poked its long nose into the room, she saw that it was in fact the other one—Cissy.

“Cissy, come in here. I want to change dresses.”

The lizzie approached her quite close and looked up and down at the brown skirt and white blouse that she was wearing. Then she turned her head and gave Yuah an unnerving look with her left eye.

“This is too plain,” said Yuah. “I have to look good all the time now.”

“Charcoal day dress,” said the lizzie, carefully enunciating each word.

“I was thinking one of my gowns. Maybe the yellow one.”

“Too early. Not teatime. Charcoal day dress.”

“Oh, it is too early, isn’t it? The charcoal day dress? Do you think so?”

Cissy hissed affirmative, not bothering to make the up and down head bob that humans associated with an agreement. Yuah though had gleaned enough of lizzie behavior that she now knew what that hiss meant.

“As you say then,” said Yuah, and then when the lizzie didn’t move, she said, “go and get it.”

Cissy brought the dress in question from the closet and helped the woman change. She helped Yuah tie the white tie that went with the dress and then brought her the charcoal boater that matched it. Yuah admired herself in front of the cheval glass.

“Yes, you were right. This was the correct choice. But now I look like I’m going somewhere, and I have no place to go.”

“Go whalk.”

“I’ve walked every inch of the garden. Without any flowers, it’s bloody boring. And you know I don’t like to walk anywhere else alone.”

“Cissy go.”

“Don’t you have some household work that you are supposed to do?”

The lizzie, in a very human gesture, shrugged her shoulders.

“What time is it, exactly?” Yuah walked to the bedroom door and looked down the hall at the grandfather clock at the far end. “Why, it’s not even eleven. Mrs. Colbshallow will be having the luncheon soon. If I decide to take a walk later, I’ll call you.”

Yuah went downstairs and visited first the parlor and then the library, but found Terrence in neither location. She poked her head in Iolanthe’s study, but he wasn’t there either. She started for the kitchen and almost collided with Mrs. Colbshallow.

“Have you seen my husband, Yadira?”

“I believe he left about an hour ago.”

“Left? Where did he go? Who did he go with?”

“I believe he went alone.”

“Why did you let him go?” asked Yuah. “He’s a blind man! He can’t be wandering around Birmisia by himself!”

“Calm yourself, dear,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “I haven’t told Master Terrence what to do since he was twelve. As for wandering around by himself, I sent Sirrek to follow him, at a discreet distance of course. I wouldn’t want one of my best lizzies shot.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t sound hysterical.”

“And if you did, who cares,” said Mrs. Colbshallow smiling. “Hysterics are the prerogative of a woman. But you have seemed out of sorts for a week now. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, no, yes, maybe.”

“What is it, dear,” said the older woman, putting her arm around Yuah’s shoulders.

“It’s… I’m not pregnant.”

Mrs. Colbshallow looked confused. “Did you think that you were?”

“No, it’s just that, well… he’s been all over me.”

“That’s to be expected,” said Mrs. Colbshallow with a chuckle, “considering how recently you’ve been married and what a lovely young woman you are.”

“He can’t even see if I’m lovely or not.”

“I’ll wager he can feel you though.”

Yuah felt the heat rising to her face.

“What if I’m barren?” she asked.

“Pish-posh. It will all happen in its own good time. Why, I was married for almost three years before Saba came along. Stop worrying.”

“Thank you, Yadira,” said Yuah, giving her a hug.

Then they stood looking at each other for a moment and Yuah remembered why she had decided that Mrs. C was not the person to talk to about this. She struggled to think of something else to say.

“Um, Yadira…”

“Yes?”

“Um… do you have Cissy assigned to do something in particular?”

“I find I don’t have to. That first group of lizzies was quite a find. They know what needs to be done without much direction from me at all. Not like this lot that’s in the kitchen now. I think it’s because our first lizzies came from Tserich and these come from Chusstuss. Talking of which, I’d better get back to the kitchen before they burn the house down.”

Stepping back into the library, Yuah sat down in the large overstuffed chair that Terrence occupied when he was there. He spent a great deal of time in the library, especially considering there were no books that he could now read. Face down on the small occasional table next to the chair was a leather bound book. She picked it up and looked at the inside title page. It was an analysis of the Holy Scriptures. As she flipped through the pages, she noted that the book covered only the fifty-two books that were common to both the Zaeri and the Kafirites, and did not discuss the thirty-two additions of Kafira’s apostles. This reminded her, as she was reminded almost daily, that she was the sole Zaeri in the house. Back in Brech, there had been dozens of household staff who shared her religion, where as now the staff didn’t even share her species.

She looked up at the door and saw Cissy again.

“Are you following me?”

Cissy slowly moved her head from side to side.

“Well, see that you don’t. I don’t like being spied upon.”

Cissy moved off down the hallway and Yuah, putting the book back where it had sat, got up and exited the room. Just before she stepped into the parlor, she turned around and looked back to see the lizardman entering library. She went back, peeking around the corner, to find Cissy examining the book she had just had in her hands.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Cissy rolled her eyes around.

“You can’t read that, can you?”

The lizzie shrugged. Yuah walked over and snatched the book from her clawed hands. She pointed at the open page.

“What word is that?”

“Froffett.”

Looking down at the page, Yuah saw her finger was pointing at “prophet”.

“How about this one?”

“Death.”

It was a moment before the human woman realized that she was standing there with her mouth wide open. She quickly closed it.

“How did you learn to read?”

Cissy walked to the corner of the room and pulled a thin volume from the bookcase, bringing it back and handing it to the mistress of the house. It was a preschool primer, little more than an illustrated alphabet really.

“I can see how this might get you started, but there’s nothing about God and the prophets or death in here. Who is teaching you to read?”

Cissy stood as though made of stone.

“Who is it?”

Still the lizzie said nothing.

“Damn it, tell me who, right now.”

“He say not to tell.”

“Who? Who said not to tell?”

“He say not to tell,” she repeated.

“What’s going on here?” came a voice from the doorway.

Yuah turned to see her husband, his head cocked to one side as though listening, holding on to the doorframe with his right hand. “Um, nothing.”

“Leave us,” said Terrence, stepping into the room. Though he didn’t specify to whom he was speaking, all knew he meant the lizzie. “Is this what you’ve learned from Iolanthe? To torture the help?”

“I don’t know if I trust these reptiles. Some of them are putting on airs.”

“Do tell.” He reached out carefully with his hand and, finding her shoulder, pulled her close. “Soon they’ll be wanting to marry into the family.”

She slapped him across the face and immediately felt sorry, but he just laughed. He pulled her to the same chair that she had previously been in by herself and sat down, drawing her down onto his lap. He pulled her face down to his and kissed her on the lips, his hands roaming around her body.

“Do you know what my favorite part of your body is?”

“Stop it. You’re a horrible man.”

“Yes, I know. But I mean right here.” He rubbed her upper arm. “I can feel your skin right there under the material of the dress. There aren’t a dozen layers of underclothing between us.”

For some reason, his words made her feel warm in her chest and she bent down and returned his kiss.

“Maybe you’re not so terribly horrible.” She put her head down upon his shoulder and they sat quietly in that position until the luncheon bell was rung. Yuah stood up and made to pull Terrence to his feet, but he stayed seated.

“Go on and eat,” he said. “You need to put on some weight.”

“Talking of which,” she replied. “You are way too thin yourself. Come along with me.”

He shook his head. “Food doesn’t taste as good now that I can’t see it. Go ahead. I’m not hungry. I’ll eat at tea time.”

Yuah made her way to the table and found that she, Mrs. Godwin, and Mrs. Colbshallow were the only diners.

“Is the professor not joining us?”

“He and his foreigner are off to his workshop,” said Mrs. Godwin. “And it’s just as well if you ask me. I don’t like these foreigners.”

“Well, we’re all foreigners here, really.”

“Nonsense,” replied Mrs. Godwin. “I was born right here in Shopton.”

Yuah looked at Mrs. Colbshallow, who gave her a knowing nod in return. She put her hand on the older woman’s and said. “Now Macy, you know very well that we live in Birmisia now.”

“Know it? Of course I know it. I came on the very first ship, you know.”

Yuah found that she wasn’t particularly hungry. She still felt full from breakfast, but she managed a few triangle sections of cheese sandwich and a few slices of winter squash. She joined in the conversation with the other ladies of the house, but afterwards couldn’t remember what the topic had been. With her meal finished, she piled several of the remaining sandwiches on a plate and took them to the library for Terrence, only to find that he wasn’t there. She turned around and again almost ran into Cissy.

“Do you know where my husband has got to?”

The reptilian shook her head.

“Take this to the kitchen.” She handed over the plate. “Wait. I want to take a walk. You will come with me. Take that to the kitchen and then meet me by the front door.”

Cissy went to the kitchen while Yuah went to the coat closet and gathered her coat and muff. They met again just inside the front door, which Tisson opened, and the two walked outside. It was a relatively warm day, though not so much as made a coat uncomfortable. The sun was bright and the snow was starting to melt.

“Come, we’ll walk this way,” said Yuah. “Be sure to keep your eyes open for those damned birds.”

The woman led the way around the side of the house and through the still dead-looking garden. At the far side of the backyard was a gate which opened into an alleyway that made up the middle of the block between the Dechantagne house and the empty lots behind it that would someday host large stately homes. Turning right, Yuah walked through the alleyway. It was not covered with gravel as were the surrounding streets, but was mostly covered with dead grass and a few patches of dirty snow, with a meandering footpath roughly in the middle. At the end of the block, she turned west down Acorn Street. Glancing quickly behind her, she saw that Cissy was following at a distance of three paces. She stopped and pointed to a spot on the ground just to her left. The reptilian quickly moved to the spot by her side.

“You will stay close by me to help discourage velociraptors.”

“Yes.”

Yuah took a step and then another, but did not return to the quick stride she had been taking earlier. She lazily strolled from step to step. From the corner of her eye, she could see Cissy’s great greenish bulk beside her.

“So,” she said slowly, and then burst out. “Who has been teaching you to read?”

“Hy you hant to know?”

“Don’t you sass me!” Yuah turned quickly to look into the round yellow eyes. “You are my servant. You live in my house. Answer me, damn it!”

“He say not tell,” said the lizzie, very quietly.

Yuah just stared into the yellow eyes.

“Your Terrence.”

Yuah stared, her mouth falling open again.

“You liar,” she said quietly. “How dare you lie right to my face like that?”

“Cissy not lie. Terrence teach to read. He say not tell.”

“Why would he do that? He hates you lot. He hates all of you.”

Cissy shrugged. “Cissy look at…” She made an opening book hand gesture. “Cissy try to read. Terrence find her. He give testasstilas chogghua tostisthiss…”

“Stop, stop. I don’t understand. I know a few lizzie words, but… testarosa?”

“Testasstilas… He… teach.”

“Why?”

Cissy shrugged again.

“Why teach a lizzie who can’t even say ‘book.’ You can’t say ‘book’ can you?”

“Took.”

“You see?”

“I say ‘took,” said the lizzie, suddenly straitening up. “I say took. I read took. I read Holy Scritures.”

Cissy seemed to have grown twice her original size and Yuah shrank back, glancing down at the long claws on each hand. The reptilian followed her gaze and then returned it back to the woman’s eyes. She leaned backwards away from Yuah, but didn’t return to her hunkered down smallness.

“I do not know why Terrence teach reading,” Cissy said, carefully enunciating each word. “Terrence haff own reason. He not do anyone say. He do he say. No else.”

“Yes, well that is certainly true. He does what he wants and to the devil with what anyone thinks. He always did, even before his mother died. But still, I can’t imagine… He didn’t give you the scriptures to study, did he? I think he’s secretly an atheist, though he denies it.”

“No. I see ladies reading Scritchers. I read.”

“Surely you can’t find any real interest in them. They are stories of people and places long ago in the human world. What are they to you?”

“It is the whord of God.”

“Yes, but not your God—not the lizzies’ God.”

“I think hoonan God is God,” said Cissy. “Lizzie gods not create lizzies. How hoonans here? How lizzies here? How trees here? How anything here?”

Yuah stood thinking for just a moment.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” she said at last. “I don’t know enough to say one way or another. I wish we had an Imam that we could go ask, or even a Kafirite Priest for that matter.”

“I not see you read Scritchers. I see you read other tooks.”

“I should be reading them. Maybe that’s why I’m not… maybe that’s why some things aren’t turning out the way that I want them to. I read them a great deal when I was young. I had to. I had to be able to recite the names of the Scriptures by rote.”

Cissy tilted her head to one side, clearly unable to follow all the words the woman was saying.

“I had to learn them,” said Yuah.

“You know all Scritchers?”

“Oh yes, I can name them all. Listen carefully.” She took a deep breath, and in very quick succession she listed. “Creation, Odyssey, Discovery, Old Prophets, Stars, Laws, Kings, Writings of Nom, Letter of Nom, Middle Prophets…” She stopped. “See? And that’s only the beginning. You know I can name the Kafirite part of the scriptures too. Master Akalos made sure I could recite them. He was our tutor. Well, he was the Dechantagne tutor really.”

“More Scritchers?”

“Yes, well you see, the ones I just listed are the first part of the Grand Scriptures. They along with the Magnificent Law make up the Zaeri Holy Book. The Kafirites have thrown out the Magnificent Law, but they have another whole set of scriptures that they call the Modest Scriptures. So their book has the Grand Scriptures and these Modest Scriptures, which if you ask me have very little modesty in them.”

“You teach Cissy Scritchers?” asked the lizzie.

“No. I don’t think so,” replied Yuah, shaking her head. “I am not Terrence. I most assuredly do care what other people think of me—I suppose I shouldn’t, now that I’m a Dechantagne, but I do. And teaching a lizzie? I just don’t know what people would make of that.”

The lizzie stared at her for a long moment. Finally she said. “Follow.”

Yuah found herself suddenly struggling to keep up with the reptilian who usually, like all members of her race in the colony, moved like cold molasses. She was also conscious of the fact that she was following in Cissy’s footsteps, therefore in the inferior position. They walked briskly to the point at which the street ended and the wild forest began. Cissy continued, but Yuah stopped.

“Follow,” said Cissy, turning around.

Yuah looked around, though whether for help or to make sure that no one saw her, even she didn’t know. She then stepped off the gravel road and followed Cissy into the low bushes between the redwood trees. The brush tugged at the bottom of her dress and the melting snow soaked the hem. They walked and walked. The air seemed to become darker and thicker with each step away from the realm of humanity and into the hidden reaches of the primeval forest.

“How far are we going?” asked Yuah.

“Not far.”

It was far though. At least Yuah thought it was far. They walked more than two miles in the shade of the gigantic redwoods and large maples before they came to a clearing. About one hundred yards across, the clearing seemed to be nothing special at first, but as Yuah followed Cissy out of the trees, she noticed that the ground had changed. Looking down to where to where her dress hem dragged along, she could see between the small patches of snow and the creeping roots that she was standing on a smooth surface of stone slabs that had been fitted together. She scanned the area and could see steps here and there, breaking the clearing up into several areas of varying height. In a few places there were piles of stone that might have indicated that a wall had once stood there, but there were no buildings. A loud squawk startled Yuah and she jumped over to where the lizzie stood, but it was only a small group of eight or nine buitreraptors skirting the edge of the trees.

“Look,” said Cissy.

On the other side of the clearing from where they had entered were a series of seven large stones. Each stood about eight feet tall and they were roughly oval in shape. At either end of the row were the remains of other similar stones that had once stood in the line, but had long ago crumbled, either from exposure to the elements or from ancient vandalism. Though the remaining stones were weathered and worn, Yuah could see as she stepped up to them that they had been carefully carved and must have once been very detailed. At first she couldn’t quite tell what they had been intended to represent, but after examining them for a minute or two she could just make out the features of a dragon. Each stone was slightly different as though each was portraiture of a unique individual.

“These lizzie gods,” said Cissy.

“They’re dragons. You worship dragons?”

“Lizzies haff dragon gods.” The reptilian pointed first to the statue directly in front of her and then to the right. “This is Setemenothiss. That is Hissussisthiss. I not know the others.”

“Do you think dragons are gods?” asked Yuah.

“Dragons are gods. They not like God in Scritchers. Dragons not create whorld. Not create Cissy. Not create Yuah.”

“Well then they can’t really be gods can they?”

“You see this city?” asked Cissy.

Yuah looked around. “I see the ruins of what might have been a city, I suppose, countless generations ago—hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago.”

Cissy pointed at the dragon stone on the right. “Hissussisthiss—he old then. He is still here.”

“He can’t still be alive.”

“Your wise elder; he see Hissussisthiss.”

“Wise elder?”

“Zeah Korlann.”

“Yes, my father said that he was rescued, or was it captured, by a dragon. But he was out of his head at the time, wasn’t he? It didn’t really happen. Did it?”

“He is still here.” The words had barely left Cissy’s large alligator mouth when her clawed hand shot out and grabbed Yuah by the shoulder, dragging her to the ancient stones on the ground and pulling her behind the stone image of Setemenothiss.

“What…”

Cissy hissed her to silence, and then pointed around the stone. Standing in the middle of the clearing, scarcely fifty feet away was a monstrous tyrannosaurus. Even bent over at the hip so that the massive, blood red, scarred head was balanced by the long tail, it was sixteen feet tall. Its body was so black that it looked as though the horrendous face was floating atop a shadow. Its ridiculous little forelegs were barely visible. Slowly turning around and sniffing loudly, the great beast took a step forward. Yuah was sure that her heart would leap out of her throat. She wanted to get up and run, but Cissy’s body pressed her to the ground. The tyrannosaurus took another step and another sniff, and then made a peculiar coughing grunt. Suddenly it wheeled around and stalked quickly and surprisingly quietly back into the woods.

Cissy stood up and pulled Yuah to her feet. She put a clawed finger over the woman’s mouth, indicating that she should remain quiet. Yuah stood as still as the lifeless stone dragons. After a few moments Cissy spoke.

“It is gone.”

“I want to go home now,” said Yuah, holding onto the lizzie’s shoulder to keep her balance as her head swam.

Cissy bobbed her head up and down in a human nod. The woman looked at her for a long moment, taking several deep breaths.

“We will read Scriptures together one night each week. Nobody can say anything about me reading the scriptures, can they? If you happen to be there reading along with me, it’s not my fault. I didn’t teach you to read. And if you are going to read, what better thing to read than the Scriptures? After all, Iolanthe could find you reading Kazia Garstone and faint dead away.”

Chapter Ten: The Drache Girl

“What are you doing out here?” asked a voice.

Senta turned around to find Graham looking oddly at her. They were at the edge of the roadway in front of the Dechantagne mansion. Senta had spent most of the morning watching for any sign of Streck, but so far he hadn’t shown his Freedonian face.

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

“Well, I was looking for you. I thought we could go over to Hertzal’s house and have a nice low tea.” He held up a canvas bag in one hand. “I brought bread and butter.”

“Where did you get butter?” Senta’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”

“How in the name of Kafira can you ask me that?” Graham squared his shoulders and stood up as tall as he could. “When did you ever hear of Graham Dokkins stealing anything?”

“I’m sorry. Where did you get it then?”

“My Ma sent it,” he replied, not at all mollified. “We had an extra tin and she said I could share it with the Hertlings.”

“That was nice.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he said, starting down the road.

“I said I was sorry,” Senta said, stepping quickly to keep up. “I could make it up to you.”

“How would you do that?”

“I could give you a kiss…”

“That magic is making you lose your mind, that’s what,” he said, not slowing down.

“Alright then, I have a secret mission that I might let you help me with.”

“What secret mission?” he asked, glancing at her but not stopping.

“I’ll tell you, Hero, and Hertzal together.”

“Why? Did you brass them off too?”

“Say, how come you mother is sending butter over? I thought your folks didn’t like Zaeri,” said Senta, changing the subject.

“We’re not like that Freedonian wanker. We don’t call people dogs for no reason.”

“Oh, you heard about that, eh?”

“That’s right. If he’d called Hertzal a dog in front of me, I would have popped him in the breadbox.” The quickest way to anger Graham was to threaten his friends. “Besides, Ma’s grown quite fond of Honor, really. They’re in the Ladies’ Auxiliary together.”

They arrived at the Hertling home in short order, but when they knocked on the door there was no answer.

“You don’t suppose they’re at shrine, do you?” wondered Graham, looking around.

“Only if they’re the only ones.” Senta pointed to neighbors working on their houses or in their yards, all of whom were Zaeri.

A moment later though, the mystery was solved. The three Hertling siblings came walking down the road from the east. Hero and Hertzal carried large baskets filled with foliage, while their older sister had something that looked like a cricket bat casually slung over her shoulder. The twins saw their friends and waved, calling out greetings. Hero ran ahead and Senta met her at the road, giving her a great hug. Though he waved to his friends, Graham’s eyes were fixed on the instrument that Honor carried. When she was close enough that he could see it clearly, he found that it was not a cricket bat at all, but a lizzie sword. The main hand to hand combat weapon of the lizardmen was a thick sword made of wood but encrusted all around the edges with flint, obsidian, or sometimes even shark’s teeth. This one had shiny black obsidian flakes that appeared razor sharp.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Graham enviously.

“It was a gift,” Honor replied. “The chief of Tserich gave one to each of the members of the Colonial Council. I imagine most of them are hanging on display somewhere, but I like to carry mine when I have to go away from the town.”

“So where have you all been then?” asked Senta.

“We went to gather winter berries,” replied Hero.

“Perfect, we can have them for tea.”

“Oh, you can’t eat them,” said Honor. “They’re for decoration only.”

“We had loads of them hanging all around our house,” said Graham. “But it’s way past Kafira Mass now.”

Senta shot him a frown.

“What?”

“As a matter of fact,” continued Honor. “I got the idea from your mother, Graham. I think the red and green will brighten up the house and as I understand it, according to Brech tradition, they are often kept over the winter and not just on, um… holidays.”

“Can we go inside now,” asked Hero. “I’m just frozen.”

Honor opened the front door and they all stepped inside the home, which was only marginally warmer than the outside. Hertzal, with Graham help, got right to work lighting a fire in the stove, while the girls went into the other room and exchanged damp clothing for dry and wrapped up in thick blankets. Hero lent Senta one of her two housedresses, which was only slightly baggy and only slightly too short. The boys removed only their boots and socks, which they dried by the stove once the fire was going, but Hero brought each of them a blanket, and in a few minutes they too were feeling warm and cozy. The four ten-year-olds sat around the stove, Senta and Hero sharing a chair, while Honor placed the green branches filled with red berries festively around the small room.

“I brought bread and butter for tea,” said Graham at last.

“That’s his way of telling you that he’s hungry,” said Senta.

“No it isn’t.”

“That’s lovely Graham,” said Honor. “I was going to make some butter this week, but we’ve all been so busy that I just haven’t found the time. Hero, come help me prepare tea.”

“Let me help instead,” said Senta. “Hero’s not warmed up yet.”

“I’m fine, really,” said Hero, though she made no move to unwrap the blanket from around her.

“It would not be passend… um, proper. You are a guest in our house.”

“Please.”

“Very well then. Join me in the kitchen.”

Joining Honor in the kitchen meant taking three steps from where she was. Once there, Senta helped the eldest Hertling by slicing the bread that Graham had brought, which was then toasted on the stove. Then they sliced cheese and apples and sausages, and these were served along with the toast and tea at the table.

“What has you so busy this week,” asked Senta, when they were halfway through the meal.

“Hmm?”

“What has you so busy that you weren’t able to make butter.”

“Besides council business,” replied Honor, “I’m spending quite a bit of time at the base trying to help those poor people off the ships get themselves situated. I barely have time to see to Hero and Hertzal’s schooling, let alone make butter or darn clothes. Fortunately my brother and sister have stepped up to do their part.”

“I could help.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’m sure. Besides, you must have plenty of your own work to keep you busy.”

“Not really,” said Senta. “Everything pretty much gets magiced at our house.”

“That must be nice,” said Honor dryly.

“Is that why you don’t like me much then?”

Honor silently opened and closed her mouth twice before she found her voice. “Who said I don’t like you? What gave you that idea?”

“Nobody said it. It just seems that way.”

“Did I do something when you were here last week to make you think that I didn’t like you?”

“No.”

“I do like you Senta.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really…um… well I suppose that I’m a little bit frightened of you.”

“Frightened of me?”

“Yes. Everyone is to some extent.”

“I’m not,” said Graham, his mouth full of sausages.

“Most people are,” continued Honor. “You have your own dragon. You can do magic. People have seen you do some pretty amazing things, and now there’s a story that you killed two utahraptors with a lightning bolt.”

“It was only one,” said Graham, and then swallowed. “And I helped.”

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Senta turned to the twins.

Hertzal shook his head.

“Not really. Only when you do magic,” said Hero in a small voice. “But it’s exciting too.”

After the meal, Honor left for town, carrying her lizzie sword with her. The four children gathered back around the stove, this time with steaming cups of cocoa.

“Alright,” said Graham. “Tell us about this secret mission.”

“What secret mission?” wondered Hero.

“Well, you all know that I’ve had a couple of run-ins with that Freedonian”

The other three nodded.

“Zurfina wants me to find out exactly how powerful he is. She told me that if he proves to be a threat, I have to neutralize him.”

“They only do that to cows and pigs,” said Graham. “Not people.”

“I said neutralize him—not neuter him.”

“Oh.”

“And,” continued Senta. “Another party has asked me to keep an eye on him too.”

“Was it the governor?” asked Graham. “You know she’s scarier than you are.”

“No, it wasn’t Mrs. Government, but you’re close.”

“This really is frightening,” said Hero. “I’ll help if I can though.”

Hertzal nodded.

“I’ll let you know when I need you,” said Senta. “In the meantime, if you see Streck around town, keep an eye on him and let me know if he’s up to something strange.”

When Graham and Senta left the Hertling home and walked back toward Town Square, Senta was quiet.

“What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t know everyone was frightened of me,” she said.

“Well get used to it. If you become a really powerful sorceress like Zurfina, everyone will be scared of you.”

“Even you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Graham. “Obviously I’m not going to be scared.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“My Da say’s that all men are a little afraid of women. But only that much and no more.”

“Well, that’s a relief.

They parted ways in Town Square, as usual simply turning down different paths without a wave or a verbal “goodbye.” Noticing that Finkler’s Bakery was open, Senta started across the square toward it. She wasn’t hungry, having just finished tea, but was interested to see what service at Port Dechantagne’s first eating establishment looked like. Halfway there she suddenly stumbled, sprawling across the gravel, wet and muddy with melted snow and scratchy with rock salt and jagged pebbles. Looking toward her feet, she spied a large rock that had obviously been the cause of her tumble. But how could she have missed it? Looking toward the pfennig store, she saw Streck laughing heartily. Jumping to her feet, she aimed a spell at him.

“Uuthanum,” she said, and six or seven gallons of water appeared in the air above the Freedonian’s head, dousing him.

Senta could see him mouthing the magic word even though she couldn’t hear it. Her feet flew out from beneath her, plopping her onto her bottom in the wet gravel. She fired right back, causing the pfennig store door to fly open, smacking Streck in the back of the head. With a shout in Freedonian that was no doubt profane, he made half a dozen determined strides toward her before remembering himself and coming to a stop in the middle of the square.

“Why don’t you shoot a lightning bolt?” he called to her. “Or perhaps a fireball?”

“I don’t want to burn down Mr. Parnorsham’s store.”

He sneered, then raised both hands toward her and said. “Talik Uuthanum.”

It was the first magic above the most basic cantrip that Senta had seen him do, and because the spell was an unfamiliar one, she didn’t know what to expect.

“Prestus Uuthanum,” she said, throwing a shield up around herself. She felt the magic bounce off and she saw Streck’s eyes widen. She mentally flipped through the spells with which she could counter-attack, but she didn’t use any of them. She waited to see what he would do. He stared at her for a moment, and then turning on his heel, he strode swiftly from the Town Square.

“Too right,” she called after him. “And don’t come back.”

Brushing off her coat, Senta turned to see about twenty people watching her from in front of the bakery. Their expressions were not difficult to read. There was concern, curiosity, and yes there was definitely fear. Some turned and went about their business, but most continued to watch her as she slowly crossed the square toward them.

“How’s the food?” she asked, when she was just a few steps away.

“It is of course, excellent,” said Aalwijn Finkler, stepping forward from the back of the group. “Would you like me to wrap up a couple of sandwiches and some soup for you to take home for dinner?”

“Um, I don’t have any money.”

“I will be happy to extend you credit.”

“Alright then.”

Senta waited outside the bakery, half watching to see if Streck would return. By the time Aalwijn came out with a small box loaded with wrapped packages of food, most of the gawkers were gone.

“I added a nice large piece of strudel—my gift for anyone who fights the Reine Zauberei.”

“So you know about them, eh?”

“There has been much talk of them and of him, among the Zaeri colonists.”

“Well, don’t get your corset in a twist. He’s just a wanker.”

“No doubt,” agreed Aalwijn. “But they are bad, very bad, and I’m worried about more of them coming here. You could have done more magic on him, couldn’t you? Your magic is better, yes?”

Senta made a derisive sound. “You just watch and see. I’m going to teach him a little something about real magic.

When Senta got home, she saw no sign of either Zurfina or Bessemer. She put the food away and went upstairs to take a long hot bath. The large claw-foot bathtub sat across the room from her bed and quickly filled with hot, scented water. Undressing, Senta submerged herself up to her nose and floated until her fingers and toes turned prune-like. Afterwards she slipped into her silk nightdress, even though it was not yet dinnertime. When she went downstairs, she found the lower level toasty warm from the stove, and the aroma of baking food filling the air. Zurfina sat nude in the comfy chair, one leg slung over the arm. Her clothing hung near the stove. Bessemer was curled up in his corner, but his eyes were wide open.

“Hey,” said Senta.

“The whole family together,” said her guardian. “We must celebrate.”

“Who started the fire?”

“I did,” said Bessemer.

“Are you cooking too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Zurfina. “I’m baking a turkey pot pie.”

“Really? I didn’t know you could bake.”

“I can bake it; though I had someone else assemble it.”

“Well it smells good. I brought sandwiches though.”

“We can eat them and save the pie for tomorrow.”

“Turkey pot pie,” said the dragon.

“Fine. We will save the sandwiches for tomorrow.”

“I finally saw Streck do some real magic,” Senta informed the sorceress, stepping from the staircase to the stove. “Not very impressive, but at least the real thing.”

“I thought I detected some art earlier. Which spell did he cast?”

“It’s one I didn’t know. I blocked it, so I didn’t feel its effect. He said ‘Talik Uuthanum’, and the magic looked like this.” Senta drew a shape in the air with her finger.

“What do you mean, ‘the magic looked like this’?” asked Zurfina, getting up from the chair and walking across the room to her.

“That’s what the magic looked like when it came out of him.”

“You could see it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, you are a precious girl,” said Zurfina, wrapping her arms around Senta and pulling her close.

“Thanks,” said Senta, enjoying the rare closeness for a moment. Then she realized that her face was pressed into Zurfina’s bare and ample bosom. “That’s enough. I don’t like hugging a naked woman.”

“Really? Mr. Jex informs me that he quite enjoys it.”

“Well, I’m not Mr. Jex,” said Senta, rolling her eyes. “And who the hell is Mr. Jex?”

“He’s a new friend. He arrived on the ship last week.”

“Never mind, I don’t want to know. So what was it?”

“What was what?”

“What was the spell that Streck tried to use on me?”

“Oh, that was a simple fear spell. It’s quite low if you ask me. I much prefer it when people are naturally afraid of me.”

“Talking of which, were you aware that people are afraid of me too?”

“Are they?”

Senta nodded.

“Well, congratulations.”

“Only I’m not sure if I want them to be afraid of me.”

“Of course you do. That’s the best part about being a sorceress. Now be a good pet and take that pie out of the oven in, oh, say twenty minutes. I’m going to take my bath and then we can all partake at the table.”

Whether Zurfina meant it that way or not, Senta took her words to be an indicator that she should set the table. As she laid out the place settings for three, she turned to the steel dragon.

“What have you been doing then?”

“Watching.”

“Watching what?”

“Watching people.”

“Watching what people?”

The dragon lifted up his head and propped it up on the palm of his hand, making Senta laugh. If he had only been peering over a pair of glasses, he would have looked very human indeed.

“Watching the people in town,” he carefully enunciated, ignoring Senta’s laughter.

“What are you doing that for then?”

“To learn.”

“To learn what?”

“Talking.”

“Graham is right. You talk a lot already, especially considering you’re only two years old. You’re saying whole sentences.”

The turkey pot pie was delicious, filled with large chunks of turkey, steaming gravy, tender potatoes, onions, and carrots, and topped by a thick flaky crust. It was baked in a cast iron skillet fourteen inches in diameter, from which Senta and Zurfina each cut two large wedges for themselves. Bessemer ate the remaining fifty percent himself, repeating “turkey pot pie” to himself several times. Afterwards, the dragon went back to his corner, the sorceress went upstairs to her room, and Senta cleaned up the dishes and then went to bed.

The next morning Senta headed out onto the peninsula to the dockyard. The Windermere was due to leave port and she expected to run into Graham, who liked to watch the ships sail in and out whenever he could. As she passed the rows of apartments that stood just southeast of the bay, she noticed people staring at her. She had over the past year and a half, grown used to the attention she received. But it seemed now even more people stopped to watch her. And now she noticed fear in all their eyes, whether or not it had been there before. She didn’t find Graham at the docks, but those people that were there all seemed to be watching her. Even the lizzies kept one of their yellow eyes on her at all times.

“Hey Senta,” said a voice behind her.

Senta turned around to find Corporal Saba Colbshallow. He too had a strange expression on his face. Not fear. Maybe concern or anger. Maybe both.

“What’s up?”

“I heard about your row with Streck. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to teach him a lesson. The nerve of him picking on a girl.” Senta was at least glad he didn’t say “little girl” or “child”.

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. Sure you can. Well, I’m going to the bakery and try their food for lunch. Would you care to join me?”

“I’m not hungry. I had a Finkler’s sandwich for breakfast,” said Senta. “On the other hand, I don’t have anything to do here except be stared at.”

Saba looked around. “Well, you’ve got to expect it a bit, decked out like you are.”

Senta’s outfit fit a theme that Zurfina apparently enjoyed—a floor length black dress with a white collar and a black ceramic rose right below her chin. Black gloves and a black bonnet completed the outfit and combined to make her already light complexion look very pale.

“Is your shadow going to join us?” she asked.

Saba turned to see Private Shrubb watching them from the edge of the dockyard.

Saba muttered something incomprehensible.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Saba. Then he waved Shrubb over.

“Good morning,” said Shrubb when he had reached them. “How are you today, Miss?”

“Fine, thank you sir.”

“Come along,” said Saba. “We’re going to Finkler’s bakery.”

They walked up the hill on Seventh and One Half Avenue, then turned right and made their way past the militia base and through the great gate.

There were only three indoor tables and four outdoor tables at the bakery. Fortunately all but one was empty, so the small party had their choice. They chose one of the indoor tables. Before they could sit down, a man from the only other occupied table stood up. As he did, they recognized him as Mayor Korlann.

“Good morning. Come over here and meet some people. These are three gentlemen who are going to be valuable additions to our colony. Senta, Saba, I’d like to present Mr. Paxton Brown, Mr. Karl Haarhoff, and Mr. Courtney Jex.” The three men at the table glanced at each other, no doubt wondering why they were being presented to two youngsters rather than the other way around. “Gentlemen, I give you Corporal Saba Colbshallow. And this… is the Drache Girl.”

The three men, no longer unsure of the appropriateness of the mayor’s introduction, jumped up and rushed toward the ten year old girl, shaking her hand once she had offered it. They then shook hands with Saba and even Eamon Shrubb, though he hadn’t been introduced at all. Brown was a rather nondescript man in his forties, of average height with thinning brown hair. Haarhoff was a big man in his fifties, standing much taller than even Shrubb’s six foot three. He had bushy blond hair, a big bushy mustache, and very bushy eyebrows. Senta gave them little notice however. Her attention was all on the third gentleman. Mr. Jex was younger than the other two; with his boyish face, he could have passed for early twenties, if one were to ignore the laugh lines around his deep blue eyes. His short-cropped hair was neatly cut and he was clean-shaven. He was just over six feet tall with an athletic build.

“What exactly are you doing in Birmisia… um, gentleman?” asked Senta.

“I’m here for the hunting,” said Haarhoff. “I’ve hunted all over Sumir, but alas, there’s very little big game left there. Now here; here there are big animals aplenty.”

“I don’t recognize your accent, Mr. Haarhoff,” said Saba.

“Mr. Haarhoff is from Bordonia,” said Mayor Korlann.

“I thought Bordonians spoke Freedonian,” said Senta.

“Obviously your education is lacking,” said Mr. Brown, with a thin-lipped smile. “Their languages are similar, but not the same. Likewise their accents when speaking Brech are not the same.”

“Um, Mr. Brown is a scholar,” said the mayor. “He’s going to be tutoring some of our youngsters, no doubt.”

“How lucky for them,” said Senta, before turning back to Jex. “And you?”

“I’m here for the view.”

“Mr. Jex is one of the most promising young artists of your United Kingdom,” explained Haarhoff. “I had heard his named mentioned all the way home in Svizra.”

“I never heard of him,” said Senta.

“There you display another lack…” Brown started. Before she could catch herself, Senta’s index finger shot into the air and an incantation half formed on her tongue. Brown’s words died in his throat and a look of fear passed across his face and down into his body, which began to shake.

“I’ll… have to look up your work,” said Senta, pretending that she had only raised her finger for emphasis, but fooling no one.

“I think it’s time we were on our way gentlemen,” said the mayor, ushering his companions away from the ten-year-old girl and the two soldiers.

“Well, that was exciting,” said Shrubb. “You don’t often meet an artist or a professional hunter.”

“Shall we just sit down and eat?” asked Saba. “I suppose I’m the only one hungry.”

“No, no,” said Shrubb. “I can eat.”

Aalwijn Finkler brought tea to the table a moment later and informed them of the daily specials—egg salad sandwiches and liver dumpling soup.

“I’ll have the egg salad sandwich,” said Saba.

“I’ll have the sandwich and soup,” said Shrubb.

“And for the lady?”

“Do you have any more strudel?” asked Senta, and when Aalwijn answered in the affirmative. “I would like a piece.”

“I’ll have some of that too,” said Shrubb.

“You’re both going to get fat,” said Saba.

“I can only hope,” said Senta.

They had only just received their food and begun eating however, when Saba was called to leave. A female lizzie, identifiable as such by the little yellow dress, arrived in the bakery and handed him a note.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Do you want some help?” asked Shrubb.

“No, no. You go ahead and finish your lunch.”

Then he was gone.

“I’m sure I could be a big help if only he would clue me in as to what’s going on,” said Shrubb.

“Maybe I can help,” said Senta. “Would you mind if I did a little magic?”

“It’s not going to hurt, is it?”

“No.”

“Alright then.”

Senta pointed at him with her index finger and said. “Uuthanum.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Oh, something happened. Hold up your hand. Now tell me a lie.”

“Um… I can’t think of one.”

“How tall are you?”

“Six foot three…oh, I mean um seven feet nine and three quarter inches. Ooh.” Shrubb stared at his hand, now glowing bright yellow. He didn’t realize that his face was just as yellow.

“Now tell me the truth.”

“I’m six foot three.”

“About something else.”

“I was born in West Brumming.” The glowing faded away.

“Are you a spy?” asked Senta.

“No.” Shrubb watched his own hand expectantly, but it didn’t glow. “Why? Did you think I was a spy?”

“Saba thinks so.”

“Oh, I’d be a terrible spy. Can’t keep a secret. Never could, really.”

“Interesting. Why did you come to Birmisia?”

“To make my fortune. I’m not sure how I’m going to do that. I’m not sure what I’d be good at.”

“Do you think you’ll settle down and get married?”

“I doubt it. I’m not really interested in women.” Shrubb’s face and hands suddenly began to glow again.

“I’m not interested in any of the women around here.” The glowing continued.

“I haven’t seen any women here I’d want to settle down with.” The glowing faded away. “How long is this going to last anyway?”

“Only another minute. Are you afraid of me?”

“No, I don’t think so. You are pretty interesting. Of course, just about everybody and everything in Port Dechantagne is interesting, you have to admit. I could spend all my time just walking around observing.”

“I think I like you, Private Shrubb,” said Senta.

“I like you too.” He held up his hand. “See? Telling the truth.”

“The spell is finished,” said Senta.

They finished eating and Private Shrubb made his goodbye and left. Senta asked for another cup of tea, which she slowly sipped while looking out the bakery’s front window. It looked as though the four days of bright sunny weather would not be joined by a fifth. Even now a storm was slowly moving in from the north. By nightfall, it would be snowing yet again.

“I can’t wait for Treuary,” she said to herself.

“What?” asked Aalwijn, who was refilling her cup.

“Oh, I said I can’t wait for spring.”

“Yes, me too. Say, did you know your dragon is out back?”

“I’m not surprised. He loves your mother’s egg salad. I was kind of surprised, because he doesn’t usually eat eggs. Could you wrap up a sandwich for him?”

“Of course.”

A few minutes later, having drunk the last sip of tea, Senta exited the bakery, sandwich in hand, and walked around back, where Bessemer sat on his haunches watching the back door.

“If you skulk around the backs of buildings, people are going to think you’re a velociraptor and shoot you.”

“Egg salad sandwich.”

“I have one right here for you.” She handed it to the dragon, who carefully peeled open the waxed paper wrapping to reveal the tasty food.

“Egg salad sandwich,” said the dragon again.

“Are you going to eat that and then sleep all day?”

“No. Play today. Sleep tomorrow.” Then Bessemer, still holding the sandwich in one hand, shot into the sky and zipped off over the trees and out of sight.

“Don’t stick around on my account,” said Senta, then turned and trudged off down the road toward home.

Chapter Eleven: The Book

Cissy returned to the Dechantagne estate after delivering the message to Saba Colbshallow. Cissy couldn’t read the scrawling script of the message like she could the printed words in books, but she knew what it said. It informed the young corporal that Mr. Streck was off the premises and that he should be watched. It was amazing what could be discovered by standing and listening. The humans usually treated the lizzies as though they were furniture.

Tisson was at his usual place by the front door and Cissy stopped for a moment to speak to him. She placed the back of her hand on her dewlap in greeting and the gesture was returned.

“You were not gone long,” said Tisson.

“It was a simple errand.”

“Did you receive any extra copper bits?”

“Not this time.”

It had taken a while for the lizardmen to realize that the humans would often give them additional copper bits as a bonus when some tasks were completed. The humans called these “tips.” Now the lizzies looked for them.

“Kheesie was looking for you earlier.”

“Why?”

“She wants you to take your turn caring for the young one.”

Cissy bobbed her head up and down in the human fashion and started for the door.

“Ssissiatok?”

“Yes?” asked Cissy, turning around, slightly surprised by the use of her lizzie name.

“Some of the others are talking. They say Ssterrost will not let you return to Tserich.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go back either.”

“I don’t. But I am old. You are still young. You could have returned with all your wealth and had a good life. But now they are saying that you are ‘khikheto tonahass hoonan’.”

“Maybe I am human on the inside.”

Inside the house, Cissy found Kheesie.

“Thank Hissussisthiss you are back. I haven’t had a chance to sleep since yesterday.”

“The god of forests had nothing to do with it. Where is the child?”

“The thin white and brown one has it.”

“Her,” corrected Cissy. “Where are they?”

“They are in the great room, but don’t go there. The matriarch is there and so are the blind warrior and the old frightened one.”

“It is fine. You may go rest. I will watch the child.” Cissy squinted, amused.

Cissy made her way into the parlor and took a place quietly in the corner. She was not afraid of the humans in question. In fact, she found them fascinating. All of the individuals described were present—Mr. and Mrs. Dechantagne, Governor Dechantagne-Calliere, Mrs. Godwin, and of course Iolana. The lizzies had their own descriptive names for all of them; the names Kheesie had used. Professor Calliere, whom they called “the tall one who makes no sense”, was not present. Mrs. Colbshallow, whom they simply called by the human word “lady”, was in the kitchen as usual.

“I think I should have something to say about it,” Mrs. Dechantagne was saying, “because of my unique situation in this house.”

“I am well aware that you are the lady of the house now,” replied Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere sharply. “Are you trying to rub my nose in it?”

“No! I don’t… that’s not the position to which I was referring.”

“My wife is alluding to the fact that she is the only Zaeri in the house,” said Mr. Dechantagne.

“Really? I suppose I just assumed that she was going to convert.”

“Leave that alone, Iolanthe. You know she has no desire to convert and you know that I wouldn’t have asked it of her.”

“I will leave this alone. And she must leave that alone. Mercy and his… solicitor are my concern, and I am more than capable of dealing with it.”

Mr. Dechantagne turned back to his wife, though of course he could not see her. “She’s right Yuah. You should stay out of this. You get too worked up over it. You’re too emotional.”

“I’m emotional?” cried Mrs. Dechantagne, jumping to her feet. “I’m the least emotional person in this house!

She stomped her foot twice, and marched out of the room.

“Oh, well done sister,” said Mr. Dechantagne. “Now I have absolutely no chance of a decent night’s sleep.”

“That’s your own fault. I didn’t tell you to marry her.”

“Yes, well I occasionally do things other than what you specifically tell me to do.”

“As long as you don’t forget to do those things.”

The child, who until that moment had been playing quietly on the floor with a stuffed animal, began to fuss. Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere scooped her up and carried her from the room. The room was quiet for just a moment, and then Mrs. Godwin let out a large snore.

“Mrs. Godwin? Mrs. Godwin?”

“Yes? What? Yes?”

“Do you want to go upstairs to your room and take a nap?”

“Yes, that’s a lovely idea.” She got to her feet so slowly that Cissy took it on herself to step forward and help her. The elderly woman accepted the clawed hand and made it to her feet. She looked at the man sitting across from her. “Which one are you again?”

“Terrence.”

“Yes, of course. You were always my favorite. Have you finished your studies?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s very good. You keep it up and you’ll go far in this life.”

“Do you need help up the stairs?”

“Goodness no. I can climb stairs like a pig.”

Mrs. Godwin left Mr. Dechantagne scratching his head, as she slowly walked out the door and into the foyer.

“I honestly don’t know whether or not pigs can climb stairs,” he said to himself, and then turned his head as though he was looking around the room. “Which one are you?”

Cissy looked around to find that she was the only one there besides him.

“Cissy.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, don’t you Miss Lizzie?”

Cissy hissed in confusion.

“I specifically told you not to tell anyone about our activities, and the next thing I know, you’re spilling your guts… telling everything you know to my wife.”

“She see me read. I say you teach. Nothing else.”

“Yes. At least that’s something. Did you deliver the note?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I have to go up and try to calm her down. You go outside and watch for Streck’s return. Let me know as soon as he’s here. I think there’s a bag of rock salt by the door. Take it and if anyone asks, tell them that I told you to salt the walks.”

“I haff to take care of Iolana.”

“Iolanthe’s feeding her now. She’ll go down for a nap after. I’ll listen for her.”

Cissy left the parlor, passed through the foyer, and picked up the bag of rock salt by the door before going outside. Once in the garden, she began walking up and down, spreading the salt on the cobblestone paths and the stepping stones. She looked up at the dark clouds moving in from the north. If Toss had been there, he would have been able to tell her if this was going to be the last storm of the cold season. He wasn’t there, and it was unlikely that Cissy would ever see him again.

Just then Mr. Streck walked through the front gate. Cissy was about to turn around so that she could go inside and inform Mr. Dechantagne of the Freedonain’s arrival, when she saw a bright glint shoot across the otherwise gloomy sky. The object, which it took no great intellect to recognize as the steel dragon, swooped downward. Streck had taken four steps into the yard, when the beast shot by his face so fast that he could not have seen what it was. Cissy was watching it as it sped by, and could tell not only what it was, but could see that it was carrying something wrapped in white paper, clutched tightly to its chest. The dragon was already out of sight when the Freedonian let out a blood-curdling scream. Looking back at the man, the lizzie could see cuts across his nose and both cheeks that suddenly began to bleed profusely.

She hesitated as red blood oozed from between the fingers held to his face. Saba Colbshallow suddenly appeared at the gate and rushed to the man’s assistance. He took him by the shoulder and rushed him toward the house. Cissy quickly took Streck’s other shoulder. Before they reached the steps, Streck’s legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled into half consciousness. Tisson rushed down the steps and took his legs while Saba and Cissy carried him by the arms.

Once inside, Streck was rushed to the dining room, where amid much shouting and hissing, he was laid out on the great table. Mrs. Colbshallow arrived from the kitchen and immediately ordered that clean linens and tincture of iodine be brought. Just as Clegg was arriving with the requested items, Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere stepped into the room carrying a brown bottle of healing draught. Streck’s face, upon examination was seen to have five razor thin slices, quite deep, across its width.

“Yadira, send someone to fetch Dr. Kelloran,” said the governor as she leaned over the wounded man and carefully poured the potion onto the cuts.

“I don’t need a doctor,” said Streck.

“Be quiet. This is your face. We need to make sure that it isn’t scarred.”

Clegg was sent as directed and by the time he returned with the doctor, Streck, no longer bleeding, had been moved to the parlor.

Cissy had seen Dr. Kelloran before. She was easily recognized for her more pronounced female characteristics. She usually also, as she now did, carried her small black bag. Sitting down on the sofa next to Streck, she carefully examined his face.

“The healing draught seems to be knitting the skin together nicely, but I still want to put a stitch or two on this nose.”

“Ouch!” cried Streck, as the stitches were sewn. “Damn Birmisian birds. It flew by so fast I didn’t even see it.”

“Birmisian birds don’t fly, except for the microraptors and they stay away from humans,” said Mr. Dechantagne from the doorway. His wife was standing with him. “We have a few large flying reptiles, but I’ve never heard of one attacking a person.”

“Saba?” asked the governor.

“Sorry, I didn’t see it. I heard someone cry out and came running, but whatever it was, was gone before I got there. But your lizzie was in the yard. Maybe she saw something.”

“Cissy?” asked Mrs. Colbshallow. Cissy took a step back as all of the human eyes in the room focused on her. “Cissy, what did you see?”

“It was the little god,” she replied quietly.

“Little god?”

“She means the dragon,” said Mrs. Dechantagne. “Zurfina’s little dragon.”

“It seems, Mr. Steck,” said Governor Dechantagne-Calliere, “that you have made a powerful enemy. Just what have you done to Zurfina to raise her ire?”

“I have not even seen the woman.”

“He didn’t do anything to Zurfina,” said Saba, frowning. “I’ll wager he didn’t do anything to the dragon either. But he has had at least one well-known row with Senta.”

“That child belongs in an institution,” said Streck.

No one responded. Dr. Kelloran having finished, packed up her little black bag and the others began to disperse to other parts of the house. Cissy headed for the stairs, going up to the nursery.

Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere had recently had new yellow curtains put up in the small room, and a new chest, now almost completely full of toys, sat in the corner. Cissy looked down into the crib. Iolana was still asleep, though she had managed to turn herself around sideways and had lost most of her blanket. After righting the child and covering her, Cissy sat near the toy box and began looking through its contents. There were many human dolls as well as stuffed animals, none of which the lizzie could identify. They looked nothing like the animals that roamed Birmisia. She wondered about the strange, distant land that could be the home to such creatures and to the humans.

When the baby began to stir, Cissy realized that she had been daydreaming for quite a while. She put all the toys away and stood up beside the crib. By the time Iolana was completely awake, the lizzie had changed her diaper and dressed her in a lovely little white dress with blue trim. The human child climbed to her feet inside the crib, holding on to the side and looked up at the reptile with her aquamarine eyes.

“Are you hungry?” asked Cissy in her native language.

“Da, da, da.”

“Dak, dak, dak,” the lizzie corrected.

“Dak.”

“Very good, child. You will be asking for food on your own very soon.”

After running a brush though Iolana’s fine golden hair, Cissy picked her up and carried her downstairs. Most likely the governor would tell her to take Iolana to the kitchen for some porridge, but sometimes she preferred to feed her in the mammalian way. She was not in the parlor, so Cissy continued back into the study. Both the governor and her husband were there.

“I haven’t taken Mr. Streck to see the Result Mechanism,” the professor was saying, “and as far as I know, he has no interest in it.”

“Oh look, Iolana is up,” said the governor, stepping forward and taking the child from Cissy’s hands. “Look how big she is getting.”

Calliere muttered something. Cissy took her position against the wall by the door.

“Come here and say hello,” the governor directed her husband.

“I have no interest in saying hello to your child.”

“Mercy! She’s your child too.”

“Don’t make me laugh. I don’t have to have a degree in mathematics to figure out that isn’t true, and as it turns out I have three.”

The governor turned to Cissy. “Leave us.”

Outside the door, Cissy paused for just a minute.

“She was premature,” said Mrs. Dechantagne-Calliere. “She arrived early.”

“Then it was fortunate for you. Had she come to term, she might have weighed two stone, and imagine how uncomfortable that would have been for you.”

“How can you say such a horrible thing?”

“You needn’t worry about your secret getting out,” said the professor. “It would be at least as great a dishonor for me as it would be a disgrace for you.”

Cissy only had a vague idea what the conflict between the couple was about. In lizzie society, mothers never knew who their offspring were. Knowing who one’s father was as well was almost impossible to grasp.

At the library door, she stopped to look inside. When she saw that there was no one there, she entered and went directly to the far wall. Though she had read scriptures once with Mrs. Dechantagne, it was hardly enough to slake her desire for the human books. In this single room was more stored knowledge than probably existed in the entirety of Suusthek. One particular volume caught her eye, not because it stood out, but because it didn’t. It had been squeezed between two large religious texts, and turned so that the writing on the spine was not readily visible. Picking it up, she read the cover information aloud.

“Revenge by Kazia Garstone.”

There was a small slip of paper between two pages. Pulling it out, she read the writing on it as well. Breeding Booksellers Limited. Seventh of Pentuary 1897. Terrence Dechantagne. Garstone first edition. Two hundred fifty marks!

Cissy was puzzled. She knew most of the words on the slip of paper, but having never learned the concept of a receipt, she could not guess the purpose of the little paper. She looked at the text on the page that the receipt had been marking. She had to read through the passage three times before she recognized it for what it was. It was a description of the mating practices of humans.

Closing the book, she took it with her out of the library and through the kitchen. Large fluffy flakes of snow were just beginning to fall as she crossed the back yard to the rear entry of the motor-shed where her sleeping quarters were located. This was not the first book that she had borrowed from the Dechantagne library. Mr. Dechantagne had let her read the preschool primer and later a mathematics book. She had taken three other books on her own, reading them late at night when the others were asleep or during her off hours in the day.

Kheesie wasn’t in her usual spot. She must have had something else to do before retiring. Lying down on her mat, Cissy opened the book to the first page and began reading.

It was late in the afternoon when the ceremony was over and the carriages began to arrive. There had been a crowd following all the way, thanks to the fame of Tasland Miller. The occasion rested heavily on Tasland’s shoulders—it was his task to see that all things went in proper form, and after the very best Brech traditions…

Cissy continued reading until she suddenly realized that it was too dark to do so. The sky had grown overcast and the room was growing cold. She marked her place on page twenty-eight with the receipt and tucked the book under her sleeping mat. Then she got up to fill the stove with wood.

* * * * *

Yuah stared out the front window of the parlor into the garden and shivered as she watched the snow drop to the ground. She hoped this was going to be the last snowfall of the season. It was only slightly more than a month until the official start of spring. Of course in Birmisia, snow in springtime was not entirely unknown.

“Sirrek, throw another log or two on the fire please,” she said.

When there was no response, she turned around to find that it was not the lizardman servant in the room with her but the Freedonian visitor.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Streck?”

“I am sure to be fully recovered in no time,” he replied, stepping over to stand beside her in front of the window. “And did it give you great pleasure to see me bleeding?”

“Why, of course not! Whatever would make you think such a thing?”

“Because you are a Zaeri.”

“I know that you have a very low opinion of the Zaeri, Mr. Streck, but I assure you that I took no pleasure from your pain.”

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you and that Zaeri dog of a sorceress didn’t plan the attack on me?”

“First of all sir, Zurfina is no friend of mine. Not only that, but I do not believe she is Zaeri, despite her name.”

“You seem so sincere,” said Streck quietly, “but I know you are all filthy liars. Look out there. Even now, Zaeri spies stalk me.”

Yuah looked back out the window to see Hero Hertling standing casually by the front gate. Though it was not readily apparent what the ten-year-old was doing, she certainly didn’t look as though she was trying to be sneaky.

“What’s going on here?” asked Terrence from the doorway.

“Not a thing at all,” said Streck, and turning on his heel left the room.

Terrence walked carefully across the room and reaching out, found Yuah’s waist. He drew her close.

“I want that man out of my house,” she said.

“I’ll see to it immediately. He may be here a day or two though. We can’t just throw him into one of the immigrant tents in the middle of a snowstorm.”

“The immigrants are in them in the middle of a snowstorm.”

“Yes, but we have a name to live up to. You have a name to live up to.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“And you are the lady of the house.” He grinned.

“Lady of the house…” she muttered.

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying the fact that since you married her brother, you have become Iolanthe’s social superior.”

“She’s still the governor and more importantly, she’s still Iolanthe. And don’t try to change the subject. As soon as there is a room available in the barracks, he’s to be moved there.”

“Your wish is my command.”

It wasn’t until three days later, during the height of the snowstorm though, that Mr. Streck was moved to an apartment on the militia base. Tisson and Sirrek carried his steamer trunk and other luggage through the white wonderland that the Dechantagne yards and the road beyond had become. Yuah made note of the fact that Hertzal Hertling, bundled up so much that he was all but unrecognizable, watched the move from just beyond the gate.

Though having Mr. Streck out of the house made Yuah feel happier, and feel safer, it didn’t help her feel any warmer. The snow continued on and on without interruption, piling monstrous drifts again around the yards and the house. Even having the lizzies shovel the steps did little to help her from feeling completely cut off from the world. After a week of continual snowfall, Yuah thought that she might very well go out of her mind, if she couldn’t get out of the house.

One morning, feeling particularly uneasy and isolated, Yuah went up to the nursery to play with Iolana. As frequently happened, she was startled to find a lizzie in the room with the child, this time more so, because the lizzie was stretched out across the floor, looking very much like an alligator swimming across a river. Sitting about two feet from the lizzie’s snout was Iolana. Both the girl and the lizzie seemed engrossed in a series of wooden block spread out between them.

“What are you doing?” asked Yuah.

“Game,” said the lizzie she now recognized as Cissy.

“What game is that? You have no game board.”

“Lizzie game.”

Yuah bent down and picked up one of the wooden blocks. A simplified image of a lizardman holding a sword had been drawn in the middle and at each of the four corners were a series of hash marks indicating numbers. Reading the numbers clockwise starting in the top left, they read two, three, two, one.

“What are these numbers?”

“Strong.”

“Oh, they tell you what this piece can do, eh?”

She picked up two more and looked at the first. This one had the image of a tyrannosaurus and was numbered ten, nine, six, and zero.

“He’s strong, but what’s this last number?”

“Suuwasuu.”

“I know that word. Power? Spirit power, yes?”

“Sss.”

She looked at the third block and saw it had a woman drawn on it—a human woman with a very large bustle. It was numbered two, zero, three, six.

“This is Zurfina?”

“No.”

“Iolanthe?”

“You.”

“Me? I don’t have any of that suuwasuu.”

Iolana, tired of looking at the pictures on the blocks, got to her feet and went kicking her way through them, scattering them around the room.

“Iolana is too young for such games,” said Yuah, picking up the child, “advanced though she is.”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to go to the library and read a book. Aren’t we, niece?”

“Dak, dak,” said Iolana.

“Iolana is hungry,” said Cissy.

“Well then, we’ll have to go down to the kitchen first and have a biscuit.”

Yuah carried the baby from the room and down the stairs, leaving Cissy to pick up her game blocks and put them back in the mesh sack from which they had originally come.

* * * * *

After gathering the game blocks and returning them to the bag, Cissy made her way downstairs. She had not expected Iolana to understand the game. She had merely wanted to familiarize her with the blocks and their stylized images. In fact, as with so many things about humans, she was fascinated by the rapid intellectual advancement of their young. True, Iolana would have been completely defenseless against predators, while lizzie young were able to run and hide as soon as they were hatched. On the other hand, lizzie offspring remained completely wild, running around the village like pests, until they were captured by their elders and tamed, usually in their sixth or seventh year. Iolana was already mimicking the adult humans, sometimes even copying Cissy, and she had not yet reached the end of her first winter.

Once downstairs, she passed through the foyer, dining room, and the kitchen, but stopped in the enclosed back porch. She dreaded going outside. The snow was coming down fiercely and it was no longer possible to tell where the walkway from the back door to the motor shed ran. There were however, quite a few trails around the shed through the snow. With more than a dozen lizzies working on the Dechantagne estate now, there was always someone going to or from the sleeping quarters.

Steeling herself, she opened the back door and walked down the steps. Though all the lizzies had been told to move slowly during the cold, she was halfway across the snow-covered yard before she heard the sound of the door slamming shut. She hurried through the door in the back of the shed and into the female sleeping quarters, to find it abnormally crowded. Several lizzies were present, but they were not lying on their stomachs. They were sitting or standing. What made the room seem so crowded though, were the five humans—soldiers with rifles, standing around the door. One of them turned and spoke to her and her stomach sank as she not only saw that he was holding the Garstone book in his hand, but that he was the infamous Sergeant Clark.

“You are Cissy, serial number 0042 BL?”

Cissy hissed, forgetting in the moment to bob her head up and down. Two of the militiamen started, but Clark didn’t. He stared at her with his beady human eyes.

“This was found under your sleeping mat.” He held out the book. “Put out your hands.”

His words didn’t register in the lizzie’s brain. She stood staring dumbly at him. Finally he reached down and pulled her left hand upward. Another soldier clamped a large iron cuff around her wrist and locked it shut with a padlock. This other soldier then put the matching cuff, connected to the first by a heavy iron chain, around her right wrist and locked it shut too. Taking hold of the chain, Clark led Cissy out into the snow.

“Come along quietly. Don’t give us any trouble.”

* * * * *

After playing with Iolana for the rest of the morning, which consisted of about five percent putting on a play with dolls as actors and about ninety five percent simply running around after the child, Yuah was completely worn out. She handed her niece over to Kheesie and ordered Sirrek to bring her a cup of tea in the parlor, even though it was only a short time until the luncheon hour. As she sat by the large window watching the huge snowflakes float down, she saw a figure dressed in black make its way across the yard, through the deepening drifts approximately where the cobblestone pathway lay.

“Sirrek, prepare another cup of tea. We have a visitor.”

A few minutes later, having shaken off the snow and having removed his outer layers of clothing, Zeah Korlann entered the parlor. Yuah jumped to her feet and embraced him.

“Papa! How wonderful to see you! I feel like it’s been at least a year. But what are you doing stomping around in a blizzard?”

“Oh, a little snow never hurt a person.” He accepted the tea and took a sip. “Mind you, I wouldn’t want to spend a night out in weather like this.”

“What are you doing here? Government business?”

“Well, to be honest, I do have a paper for Governor Dechantagne-Calliere to sign, but mostly I came to see you.” He looked at carefully at her. “I’ve hardly seen you since your… well, since you were muh… married.”

Yuah nodded.

“How is married life treating you?”

“Oh married life is fine.”

Zeah waited, but she didn’t elaborate.

“Well, um… more importantly I suppose; how are you coping with living here?”

“There you have hit the nail on the head, Papa. It’s like living inside a chess game. They keep telling me I’m the white queen, but I think I’m a pawn, or at best one of those horse thingies.”

“Zeah! How wonderful to see you!” Mrs. Colbshallow came in from the foyer. “I was just coming to tell Yuah that lunch is served. I do hope you are planning to join us.”

“Mrs. C. Why do you think that I chose this particular time of day to visit my daughter?”

Yuah was glad that her father had chosen this time to visit. Otherwise there would have been no one with whom to converse at lunch. The professor was at the head of the table and Iolana was seated in her high chair. Conversation with the one of them was almost as good as with the other. Besides them, it was just Mrs. C, Yuah and her father. Neither Iolanthe nor Terrence was present. There were though, as usual, huge platters filled with mountains of food including a large pork roast and a savory fruit and vegetable pie.

“I was hoping to run into your wife while I was here, Professor Calliere,” said Zeah. “I have a paper for her to sign.”

“Yes, yes. She’s always very busy,” said Calliere, without looking up from his magazine.

“You’ve been very busy too, Papa,” said Yuah. “I don’t think you should work this hard.”

“No help for it, I’m afraid. There’s so much to get done. Immigrants are arriving faster than we can find places for them. New construction plans are accelerating.”

“Can’t Iolanthe help you?”

“She really does have just as much to do as I do. She’s arranging more ships from Freedonia and is negotiating with the lizardmen. The chief of Chusstuss is demanding a kickback now to let his lizzies come and work in town. Seems he’s having a hard time shaking them down himself. I imagine the same is true of the other chiefs. I wonder that the lizzies don’t prove more trouble than they’re worth. Thank you.” Clegg refilled his tea cup. “I understand that you’ve had a bit of your own lizzie trouble, eh Professor?”

“Well, you have to keep an eye on these cold-blooded beasts,” said Calliere, still not looking up.

“What happened?” asked Yuah. “I didn’t know anything about it. Why doesn’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”

Calliere sighed and closed his magazine. Looking at his sister-in-law, he twisted his face into a patronizing smile. “Nothing for you to worry about. I found out that one of the lizzies had stolen something—a very expensive book.”

“A book? Which one was it?”

“I don’t know—a novel I believe.”

“No. Which lizzie was it?”

“Oh. Um, Cissy… Zizzy… something like that.”

“Cissy? Where is she?”

“I had her taken in, of course.”

“Sirrek! Sirrek! Oh, where is that lizzie?”

“What’s the matter Yuah?” asked her father.

“Clegg. Go find Sirrek or my husband.

“You seem upset,” said the professor. “Did you know something about this?”

“No. I knew that Cissy could read, and we talked about books. But I don’t know anything about this book.”

“Yes.” Calliere nodded knowingly. “Best not to put ideas into their heads.”

Clegg arrived back in the dining room to tell Yuah that both Terrence and Sirrek were in the bathroom. She hurried to the back of the house to find her husband sitting in the large copper bathtub and Sirrek pouring a bucket of hot water over his head.

“Cissy’s been arrested. She took a book apparently.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t lose her. How will I dress myself?”

“Towel Sirrek,” said Terrence, getting up. “I’ll take care of it, Yuah.”

Yuah admired her husband’s body as he climbed out of the tub. Though he was thinner than he should have been, he was mostly lean muscles and generally very tidy.

“Do you know what book it was?” asked Terrence.

“No. Is that important?”

He shrugged.

“I’ll see if I can find out.”

* * * * *

Cissy stood quietly in the corner of the room, the heavy manacles still restraining her wrists. The investigation had not taken long at all. Clark had asked her if she had taken the book and she had confirmed that she had. He didn’t seem interested in the additional information that she planned to return it. Militiamen went in and out of the door, occasionally looking at the lizzie in the corner. Each time they passed through the portal Cissy thought about hurrying through it and escaping into the forest, but she didn’t. She tried to make herself small.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” said Clark. “Typaldos, bring the axe.”

Clark grabbed the chain between the manacles and pulled the lizzie toward the door. She started to shake as she remembered Gorr, the female who had the end of her tail chopped off. In a few minutes, Cissy too would have her beautiful tail maimed. She would not be permitted to stay in Port Dechantagne and she would not be welcomed back in Tserich. She would die alone in the forest, probably set upon by a utahraptor. They stopped several feet outside the door of the barracks.

“Stand here,” said Clark. “Cissy, serial number 0042 BL, you have been found guilty of theft in the amount…”

“Hold it,” a voice called out. A second later, Mr. Dechantagne, Sirrek guiding him by the elbow, came around the corner of the building.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” said Clark.

“This lizzie is innocent.”

“Um, she admitted taking the book sir.”

“What are you doing Terrence?” It was the governor, exiting the building opposite the one in which Cissy had been held, and walking briskly across the snowy ground. “You can’t interfere in colonial justice.”

“I would be rolling my eyes right now, if I had any. What is the lizzie accused of taking?”

“Clark?” asked the Governor.

Clark pulled the book from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Good Kafira, it’s Garstone.”

“I believe if you look inside you’ll find the book has my bookplate in it. I purchased it. I gave it to the lizzie.”

“It also says it’s worth two hundred fifty marks.”

“It’s probably worth more than that now. You always did undervalue books, sister.”

“Why would you give something so valuable to a lizzie?”

“It’s not like it’s doing me any bloody good,” he replied. “Turn her over to me, so I can get back home and out of this blasted cold.”

Cissy was unshackled and quickly fell in behind Mr. Dechantagne and Sirrek as they started toward home.

“Wait,” called the governor. She walked quickly over to Cissy and handed her the book. “Don’t let it give you any ideas.”

Chapter Twelve: Iguanodon Heath

On the seventeenth of Festuary, the Windermere left port, sailing slowly out of Crescent Bay as the thick snow dropped down from the sky. Though it had stayed a relatively short time, it was still three days behind schedule due to a boiler problem earlier in the journey. The very next day the S. S. Osprey sailed in to take its place. The Osprey was a smaller, newer ship with sleek lines and a proud form. The latest addition to the fleet of the Merchant and Shannon shipping lines, it carried relatively few immigrants but many visitors, particularly those who wanted to make business deals in the new colony.

Two days after the ship’s arrival, Corporal Saba Colbshallow had his last meeting with Archibald Brockton. Brockton had given him assurances which he could pass on to the governor that she would be reimbursed for expenses incurred bringing immigrants from Freedonia. They had also discussed Streck, though Brockton had dismissed him as relatively unimportant.

“Unless he is significantly more capable as a spy than he is as a wizard, I don’t see him causing much trouble,” said Brockton. “He struts around and makes himself the center of attention. I don’t doubt that he is just what he says he is: a small time solicitor. When and if the Freedonians decide to make a move in Birmisia, they won’t be so clumsy and they won’t be so easily detected. You’ll have to keep your eyes open, young corporal.”

“I will sir,” promised Saba.

Brockton certainly seemed ready for an early departure, establishing himself in his cabin just five days later, a full week before the ship was scheduled for departure. No doubt he was only too happy to be out of the drafty barracks building. Saba knew that he was certainly looking forward to his last day in one. He was already planning a cozy little house for himself, on which he intended to begin construction as soon as they snow went away.

Two days after that, on the twenty-seventh of the month, the sun came out. The stormy weather had lasted eleven days, almost all of those featuring measurable snowfall. The people of Port Dechantagne dug themselves out and seemed giddy at the thought of a bright, cloudless day. Saba made the most of it by walking down the hill to the dockyard, purchasing a sausage and a cup of tea and soaking up the sun while sitting on a half-barrel.

“Good morning.”

Saba turned around to find Eamon Shrubb.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Well that’s a fine good morning.”

“Good morning then. What do you want?”

“Sergeant Clark requires you.”

Saba quickly finished his meal and followed. The two men walked past the warehouses and up Seventh and One Half Avenue to the militia base and into the office of Sergeant Clark. Militiamen, like everyone else, were enjoying the sunshine, rolling around in the snow and building snowmen and snow forts. A snowball narrowly missed Saba’s head as he walked into the building.

“What’s up,” asked Saba, brushing himself off inside.

Clark yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“I promised Mrs. Government that I would have someone meet with this hunter.”

“Haarhoff?”

“Yes, that’s him. He’s anxious to go out and shoot a dinosaur, so she wants someone to make sure that he has everything that he needs. And you know who her favorite soldier is.”

“You?”

“Not me.” Clark leaned back in his chair. “You.”

“Alright. Where is he? Building six?”

“Yes.”

To say that Haarhoff was anxious was an understatement. He and six other men were crowded into his room, leaning over a table with a large map spread across it. Lined up along the wall was a mountain of packs and equipment, ready to be carried into the Birmisian wilderness.

“Ah, young Corporal Colbshallow,” he said. “We are more than ready to set off. Will you be coming with us?”

“That remains to be seen. What I need to know right now is whether you have everything that you need.”

“We have tents, equipment, supplies, cold weather gear, and ammunition. All we need is a native guide to get us to this Iguanodon Heath, and of course some bearers to help carry all the equipment.”

“That won’t be any problem. There are always plenty of lizzies ready to work. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until the snow is gone, at least.”

“We have been waiting long enough. We have all been hunting in the snow before. Collinghouse here was with me when we hunted gharhast apes in the Daglars.”

“That’s right,” said the man on the other side of the table. “It was so cold that the bullets froze as they were coming out of the gun barrels.”

The other men in the room laughed.

“Alright,” said Saba. I’m sure that I can have a guide and thirty bearers ready by tomorrow morning. Will that be enough?”

“That will be enough,” said Harhoff. “But we will want to leave at first light.”

“Fine.”

Saba left the barracks apartment and crossed the militia base to find Private Woodrow Manring sitting at the admissions desk, waiting for new lizzies to be brought in and registered. Standing near him was Private Willy Cornish.

“Hello boys. Do we have any short timers standing around?”

“Sure,” replied Manring. “You finally going to get started on your house?”

“You know I wouldn’t let lizzies build my home. No, we need about thirty to carry supplies for the hunting expedition that’s heading out to Iguanodon Heath. I expect it will be about three or four weeks work.”

“Looks like we’ve got about thirty over with that lot,” said Cornish, pointing to a group of reptilians waiting for prospective employers.

“You want old Kendric as a guide though,” said Manring. “Or at least one of his crew.”

“I wouldn’t mind going out to Iguanodon Heath, just to look around, you know,” said Cornish.

“I’d go,” said Manring.

“Me too,” said a voice behind Saba. He turned around to find Shrubb standing there.

“Fine.” Saba rolled his head around to release the tension in his neck. “Shrubb, you go pick out thirty strong looking lizzies and tell them they’re hired. Have them meet Haarhoff’s team before first light. The four of us will go out to the Heath with the hunters and then come back on our own. Of course, we’ll all have to get Clark’s permission. Now, I’m going to go see Kendric.”

Kendric was a very old lizardman. No one knew exactly how old, and that included Kendric himself. He had moved out of his home in the lizardman village of Tsuus, and had moved into a shack behind Mr. Darwin’s store. When it had become obvious that Kendric knew Birmisia better than anyone, man or lizardman, the humans had begun coming to him for his services as a guide. He had been hired by explorers, cartographers, traders, naturalists, and workmen laying the new town water lines. He was so sought after that he had taken on several young lizzie protégés. Saba found the shriveled old creature, sitting on a log and carving a piece of bone with a small flint knife.

“Good morning Kendric,” he said, placing his hand to his neck, palm out, in the lizzie respectful greeting.

The creature returned the greeting and then slowly raised himself to his feet. Stooped over at the shoulders, he was quite a bit shorter than Saba. In a few places his skin was the same light olive that it had once been all over, but now in many places it had turned black or sickly grey. Much of his face, belly, and shoulders were criss-crossed by jagged scars.

“I need a guide to take hunters to Iguanodon Heath,” said Saba, and then pausing for a moment. “Two would be better.”

The old lizzie nodded and then hissed out several words in his own language. The door of the shack popped open and a young female rushed out to take her place beside Kendric. She listened as the old fellow finished whatever he was saying and then turned and spoke to Saba in the best Brech he had heard any of the natives speak.

“You want two guides? For how long?”

“One guide will lead the hunters and their lizzies wherever they want to go in search of game. I imagine it will be about four weeks, but maybe longer. The other guide will come with me and three other soldiers. We’ll go out with the hunters and then come right back. Maybe five days. Tell him we want someone reliable.”

“Kendrikhastu understands you, but he does not speak the hoonan tongue.”

Kendric spoke again and the female once again translated.

“He says two thousand coins for hunters. He says he is friend to soldiers so only seventy-five coins for you.”

Saba knew the coins that the lizzies wanted were copper pfennigs, so the total price was only twenty marks, seventy-five p. It was far more than most lizzies made. The thirty laborers Shrubb was hiring to carry the gear would make only ten p a day each. On the other hand, Harhoff would pay it and not think anything of it.

“Will you be one of the guides, Kendric?”

Kendric said something and then hissed mirthfully.

“The elder cannot do such a journey, even just five days. I guide you and another guide the hunters.”

“That’s fine. We meet at first light tomorrow outside of building six on the militia base. You know where that is?”

“Yes.”

Back at the base, Saba ran into Shrubb again.

“We talked to Clark and we’re all approved to go.”

“Lovely.”

“Looks like you’re needed again,” said Shubb, pointing.

Saba turned to see Mr. Streck striding toward him. Since the Freedonian had moved to the base apartments, Saba had not been called upon to watch him. Governor Dechantagne-Calliere had added at least two others to her spy ring, and they had taken over the job, but Saba didn’t know who they were.

“Corporal Colbshallow. Private Shrubb. You are just the two men I was looking for.”

“What can we do for you Mr. Streck,” asked Saba, not bothering to hide his dislike for the man.

“I understand that you are planning a trip to the place you call Iguanodon Heath.”

“That information wasn’t slow to get around,” said Shrubb. “I only got permission to go a few minutes ago.”

“I was fortunate enough to run into your Private Cornish just now.”

“Yes, we’re thinking of making him town crier,” said Saba. “What is your interest in Iguanodon Heath, Mr. Streck?”

“I wanted to have a look—what do you say in Brechalon—take a butchers.”

“I’m sure Mr. Harfoff would let you join his expedition.”

“I am not interested in hunting and I am certainly not interested in spending weeks out of doors in the snow. I understand you will be accompanying Harhoff out and then will return directly. If that is so, I would like to join you.”

“Do you have a sleeping bag or a pack?”

The Freedonian shook his head.

“How about a rifle?”

“I told you I was not interested in hunting.”

“The same can’t be said for some of our Birmisian animals. Very well, I’ll see to it that you have supplies, and you can join us.”

Streck nodded and turning, marched back across the base.

“I’m surprised you agreed to let him come along,” said Shrubb.

“I’m letting you come along.”

“That’s harsh mate,” said Shrubb with a hurt look. “I thought we were becoming friends and now you lump me into the same bucket with a lousy foreigner.”

“I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you some nice fish and chips.”

“You were just eating an hour ago.”

“Well, I’m hungry again.”

“Well I can’t anyway,” said Shrubb. “I have a very important luncheon date at the bakery café.”

“You don’t have to make up things just because you’re sore.”

“I’m not making it up,” said Shrubb. “I’m meeting with some of the movers and shakers of the colony.”

“Fine. Have it your way,” said Saba, and turning, he marched across the base towards barracks twenty-seven.

Building twenty-seven looked just like any other barracks on the base and it was. It was fitted out with one large bunkroom housing a platoon of active duty militiamen. One of those was Corporal Amoz Croffut. Croffut was an excellent soldier. He was a good man to be in the field with because he always seemed to sense danger before anyone else. He was also in the habit of getting hold of items that people needed. He could not only scrounge up extra ammunition or a bottle of spirits, but the few new books in the colony which were passed from person to person inevitably ended up with him.

“Hey Amoz,” called Saba as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“Hello Saba.” Croffut was lying on his cot with an open book in his hand.

“Do you have a new Rikkard Banks Tatum book? I’ve finished The Wild Woman.”

“Nope. Sorry. I’ve got four books—two from Brechalon and two that came off that last Freedonian ship. They’re all real literature.” He said the words “real literature” in a tone that indicated he didn’t consider that a positive trait.

“Alright,” said Saba, sitting down on a nearby bunk. “What do you have?”

“This one is called The Sands of Time.” He waved the book in his hand, and then reached under his pillow to pull out another. “And this one is either Lan Bonnano by Fiora Kirssen or Fiora Kirssen by Lan Bonnano.”

“It’s the latter. My tutor assigned it to read, but I never did. What else?”

“The other two books are by somebody named Wissinger.” Croffut tucked Fiora Kirssen back under his pillow and pulled two more volumes from a wooden box beneath his bed. “This one is called The Man who Loved his Gardener. Sounds a little dodgy to me. And this other one is all in Freedonian—Die Einsellungsonne—I’m selling my son?”

“It’s um… The Setting Sun. That title does sound familiar, now that I say it aloud.”

“You speak Freedonian?”

“Not really. I can figure it out mostly, but not quick enough to carry on a conversation. Give me the gardener one.”

* * * * *

Eamon Shrubb entered the bakery and stepped quickly to the far table, where two children were seated. “I hope I’m not late.”

“You’re right on time,” said Senta. “Please sit down. This is my friend Graham Dokkins.”

“I’m not her boyfriend,” said Graham.

“Well if there’s an opening, I might apply for that job myself.”

“What are you, some kind of weirdo?” demanded Graham. “She’s just a kid.”

“Relax Graham,” soothed Senta. “I happen to know for a fact that Private Shrubb isn’t interested in me.”

“I received your message,” said Shrubb. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s like this,” began Graham, but Senta stopped him with a raised hand.

“Wouldn’t you like to order first? I thought soldiers were always hungry.”

“I would be insulted if that weren’t true.”

Senta called to Aalwijn Finkler, who came right over.

“What’s good today?”

“Everything is good, as you know. We have ham sandwiches on Mother’s wheat and honey bread, and prune soup with dumplings.”

“I’ll pass on the soup,” said Graham. “Give me the sandwich.”

“Same here,” said Senta.

“You should be open to new things,” Shrubb told the children. “I’ll have the soup and sandwich.

“Are you always open to new things?” asked Senta, once Aalwijn had taken their order to the kitchen.”

“When it comes to food, yes. Now what was it that you wanted to see me about?”

“It’s like this,” Graham started again. “I hear you’re taking a little trip to Iguanodon Heath.”

“How on earth did you hear that? I only just got permission a little while ago.”

“I have my sources.”

“Is one of them Willy Cornish?”

“Yeah,” Graham admitted. “Anyway, we understand that a certain Freedonian wanker named Streck is going with you.”

“Okay…”

“We just want you to keep an eye on him.”

“And why would you want that?”

“No particular reason,” said Senta.

“Well, you see, I have my own sources, and I happen to know that you’ve had a couple of run-ins with Mr. Streck.”

“Maybe.”

Aalwijn arrived with the food and Graham immediately tucked into his sandwich, while Shrubb tasted his soup.

“How is it?” asked Senta.

“Better than I expected. It’s full of bacon and onions. It’s kind of sweet and sour at the same time, but in a good way. Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m more interested in your answer,” she replied as she carefully covered the inside of her bread with mustard.

“You are one strange kid. I’m going to have to watch out for you when you grow up.” He looked at Graham. “You’re going to have to watch out even more.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“If it makes you happy, I’ll keep an eye on Streck. He is a wanker, I’ll give you that.”

* * * * *

It was a large party that left the militia base the following morning—four militiamen, seven hunters, two guides and thirty bearers, and one Freedonian tag-along. Though the lizzies usually moved quite slowly, they managed to keep up with the humans. The two guides that old Kendric had supplied even managed to stay at the front of the group. One of the guides, as expected, was the young female that had translated for Saba at the elder’s shack. The other was a young male.

“What are you called?” Saba asked the female guide.

“I am Kendra.”

“Is Kendric your father then?”

The reptilian looked at him and then rolled the eye facing him around. He remembered that the lizardmen knew nothing of their family history.

“What I mean is… is he your elder?”

Kendra hissed. “Kendrikhastu is our elder.” She waved to indicate the other guide as well as herself. “He has much suuwasuu.”

“And who’s your friend?” asked Saba, nodding toward the other lizzie guide.

“He is Tassanottack. You hoonans say Tassy.”

Tassy was about an inch taller than Saba, so he was about average for a lizzie. He had clearly been mauled by one of the forest predators. He had a series of massive scars around his head and running down his back and a good portion of his dewlap was missing.

“Utahraptor get him?” Saba quietly asked Kendra.

“It was a velociraptor and it happened when he was very young—when he was still wild.”

“Poor fellow.”

“Yes,” agreed the female. “Fortunately it did not mar his beauty.”

“No?”

“No. Look at his tail.”

Tassy did indeed sport a long, muscular tail that was completely free of scars or discoloration.

“You’re not like the other lizzies are you?” The voice was so close behind Saba that it made him jump. He turned to find Shrubb a half step behind him.

“Kafira Kristos!”

“Steady on, mate,” said Shrubb, cheerfully. “You know what I mean, don’t you? She’s not like the other lizzies. She’s not slow and she doesn’t hunker down they way they do.”

Saba shrugged, but Shrubb was right. Kendra made no effort to make herself look smaller, though she really had little need. She was the shortest lizardman that Saba had seen, not even reaching the height of his shoulder. Her skin was a perfectly smooth light green, with none of the scars or imperfections that most lizzies had. He glanced over to see Streck walking with the hunters. He had obviously been listening in on their conversation and had a sour look on his face.

“I wonder what’s eating him,” said Shrubb.

“With any luck, a big dinosaur.”

They stopped for the night before sunset and built their camp in a forest clearing. They had made good time, considering they were traveling through snow, and the guides confirmed that they were more than halfway to their destination. After finishing the work of setting up their tents and starting a fire, Saba felt the cold start to sink completely into him. He had just gone inside his tent to unroll his sleeping bag when a shot echoed through the mighty redwoods.

One of the hunters had shot an immature saltasaurus, about the size of a steamer trunk. It was a type of creature that Saba had seen only once before, on a scouting trip to the south. That one was the size of a trolley car, but they were easily recognizable as the same species. The hunters butchered it away from the campsite, and spitting it, placing it over the recently assembled campfire. Woodrow Manring whipped out a box of salt and pepper to season the meat and soon the whole campsite smelled of roasted dinosaur.

After eating Saba climbed back into his tent and crawled into the warmth of his sleeping bag. He was slightly annoyed that he had to share the tent with Shrubb, but at least it wasn’t Cornish. Willie could talk all night. In fact Shrubb entered right behind him, and curling up on his own side, was asleep before Saba was even settled.

The next morning, after breaking their fast with a bit of the previous night’s supper, the party continued on. The day was a long one, filled with marching, but uneventful. They continued well past the point at which Saba thought they should have stopped for the night, Haarhoff wanting to be as close to the heath as possible. When they finally stopped and made their camp just inside the edge of the forest, it was too dark to see much of anything, but they could hear the herd of iguanodon baying to one another in the night. Before climbing into their tents, they ate from their canned provisions, though Saba was so tired he swallowed down only a couple of mouthfuls before climbing into his bedding, closing his eyes, and drifting off.

He was awakened by screams and shouts. He opened his eyes to find the total darkness of the tent, and had not managed to extricate himself from his sleeping bag when something crashed through, knocking the tent flat.

“Kafira damn it!” shouted Shrubb, as several rifle shots echoed around them.

Saba managed to get his boots pulled on as Shrubb ripped the tent door open around them. It was still quite dark, though the half moon’s light reflected off the snow. More gunfire and human screams. Saba dropped back to the ground. He reached up and grabbed Shrubb by the seat of the pants and pulled him down beside him. Something let out a horrible roar that sounded like it was right on top of them. Still more gunfire—Saba hoped that they were at least trying to aim at the monstrous sound. Someone shouted followed by another roar, this one more of a scream. There were a few more shots, then silence.

“Find a torch,” said Saba.

A few seconds later Shrubb had a kerosene lantern lit, as did one of the hunters at the far end of the camp.

“Croffut! Shrubb! Kendra!” Saba called.

Within moments, the three were gathered around him.

“Croffut, make sure the camp is secure. Then take an inventory of equipment. Make sure that everyone who can carry a weapon has one.” He turned to Shrubb. “Find out how many injured or dead. If Willy is alright, get him started on first aid.”

At last he turned to the lizardman. “You do the same with your people.”

The three hurried off to complete their assignments, while he made his way to the edge of camp where Haarhoff was standing beside a prone dinosaur. The beast was about twenty-five feet from nose to tail and would have stood eight or nine feet tall—about the size of a utahraptor. It wasn’t a utahraptor though. For one thing, it had no feathers. But it didn’t need them for identification, its dull black body and hideous red face told everyone what it was—a juvenile tyrannosaurus. The beast’s legs were twitching slightly and when Saba examined the body, he could see it was still breathing.

“Put a bullet in that thing.”

The hunter did as directed, but by that time Saba was already otherwise engaged. He carefully examined the ground. A maze of dinosaur tracks—tyrannosaurus tracks ran through the camp, and many of them were too large to have been made by the specimen lying nearby. There had been two or more of the monsters.

By the time Croffut, Shrubb, and Kendra had returned to report, the center of the camp was brightly lit by a huge campfire. Only one tent had been left standing and most of those knocked down were shredded beyond repair. Willy Cornish had been found unharmed, as had Streck the Freedonian. Others were not so lucky. Three of the hunters were missing… well, two and a half. The lower extremities of one had been found a short distance away in the jungle, but there was too little left to make a positive identification. Another had been stepped on, resulting in a badly mangled compound fracture of his right leg. The partial remains of three lizardmen had been located but only twelve lizzies, including the two guides, were left. It was unclear whether the others had been carried off, or had simply run away into the forest. One of those remaining had a huge chunk clawed or bitten from his shoulder. It was a wound that would have killed a human. Nobody slept the remainder of the night.

“I’m afraid that’s all for your hunting trip, Mr. Haarhoff,” said Saba.

The Bordonian nodded unhappily. “At least we will see Iguanodon Heath in the morning.

Iguanodon Heath was a spectacular site. The humans had a great view of the large plain as the sun came up over their shoulders. Great herds of iguanodon and triceratops roamed across the grassland. In the distance, a pod of Saltasaurus grazed on tree branches. Here and there, members of a dozen other species plodded along. Some of them, like the ankylosaurus, Saba knew. Others he had never seen before. They did not stay watching it long. Dozens of velociraptors were already gathering among the trees, anxious to be at the large carcass.

It took the party three days to return to Port Dechantagne, though they managed to do so without any major mishaps and with no further injury. This was due in large part, in Saba’s opinion, to the excellent work by the two lizzie guides, who more than once kept the humans from venturing in the wrong direction and who several times spotted predators trailing the scent of blood from the wounded.

The four hunters and four militiamen were buoyed by the sight of the first homes as they approached the town. The lizzies seemed no happier. Streck, who Saba suddenly realized had spoken very little the entire trip, stepped closer.

“This is a God-forsaken country,” he growled, and then peeled off from the others toward one of the nearby houses.

As he stepped away, Willy Cornish fell into his place beside Saba.

“Well, at least all the major characters survived.”

“What?”

“Well someday, somebody is going to write a book about my life, and we’ll all be the main characters. I mean, I’ll be the main character, but you and Amoz will be important supporting characters. So, we all survived. These others aren’t important to the plot, really.”

Saba reached over and smacked him in the back of his head.

Chapter Thirteen: What Happened on the Third

Senta closed the door behind her and stomped the damp snow off of her overs. It was getting near dusk and the lower room of the tower was filled with shadows. Pointing at the lamp beside the chair, she brought it to life with a word. Several other lamps followed. The room, now bathed in warm light revealed its contents, including the steel dragon lying in the corner.

“Hey,” Senta called. “You’ve been asleep for two days. Wake up.”

Bessemer opened his eyes and yawned. “What?”

“You sleep too much, that’s all.”

“I am a dragon.”

Senta plopped down in the chair and kicked her overs off, followed by her shoes and her socks. Tucking her legs up under her, she wrapped her coat tightly around her.

“It’s too cold.”

The dragon rose from his spot by the stove and climbed up onto the chair. He draped his body over the chair back and wrapped his tail around her. Curling his long neck around so that he could look her in the face, he asked. “What is the matter?”

“I worked all day making those potions.” She pointed to several small vials on the kitchen table. “So when I finally get a chance to go out and play, everyone has gone home for the night. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Your lessons?”

“Oh, you’re a big help. Why don’t you do my lessons if they’re so great?”

“I do.”

Senta stuck out her tongue. Bessemer mirrored her action. She frowned at him for a moment, but then grabbed him around the neck and pulled his scaly face to hers.

“I’m sorry. I’m just bored and tired, and I’m really ready for winter to be over. It’s too damn cold. By the way, where is Zurfina? She’s supposed to tell me whether my dionoserin is any good.”

“Upstairs.”

“Where upstairs?”

“Her room.”

“Is she alone?”

“No.”

“Is Jex with her?”

The dragon nodded.

“Again?”

He nodded again. Then he climbed down from the chair and headed for the door.

“Happy hunting,” said Senta, though she herself seemed anything but happy.

“Toodle pip,” said Bessemer, and then he was gone.

Senta made her way up the stairs, past the rooms designated for Bessemer but almost never used, up to her own room. She peeled off her clothes and ran a hot bath for herself. Once she was clean and warm, she put on her warmest nightclothes and headed back down to the kitchen for something to eat. She stoked the fire in the stove and added two logs before heading for the froredor. But something stopped her.

Sitting there on the kitchen table, just where she had left it that afternoon, was the small clear vial filled with silvery liquid. Dionoserin. A bottle just that big sold for thousands of marks. Of course it was illegal in Brechalon, but they weren’t in Brechalon anymore. Did it work? Did she grind the walnuts up enough? Did she maintain her aura? Taking two quick steps to the table, she snatched up the bottle, pulled off the cork stopper, and drank it down. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Well, I could die,” she said aloud.

She didn’t wait to see if she would die though. She ran up the two flights of stairs to her room, and then crept up one more flight stopping just before she reached the level. She slowly peered over the top step and into Zurfina’s room. She had a good idea what to expect. Senta had lived with the sorceress almost two years now. During that time Zurfina had entertained a number of male admirers.

The first thing that Senta saw was Mr. Jex, standing in the middle of the room. She was happy to see that he was fully clothed. The second thing Senta saw was Zurfina, and she was not. She was posed upon her bed, her head hanging over the edge, so that she was looking at Mr. Jex and everything else upside down. Her blond hair draped down almost to the floor, hiding her little bald spot. Her crossed legs were sticking straight up in the air. Mr. Jex stared at her for a moment before turning back to a large canvas and poking at it with the paintbrush. He was standing between Senta and the painting, but she didn’t need to see it to know what it was. Zurfina was having another nude painting done of herself.

Senta slowly climbed the last four steps and walked around Mr. Jex so that she could see the painting. He really was quite good.

“What do you think Pet?” asked Zurfina, without moving from her pose.

Startled, Jex turned around to look at her. He had a small paint pallet in his right hand.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” said Senta.

Jex looked like he was going to say something, but then stopped and setting his pallet and brush on the floor, turned and went swiftly down the stairs. Just as the sound of the front door closing echoed back up, Zurfina sat upright and in a fluid cat-like motion got up from the bed.

“Put on some clothes, Fina.”

The sorceress made the smallest of gestures with her right hand and suddenly she was clad in a long, silky, black dressing gown.

“Are you ready for something to eat, Pet?”

“Yes,” replied Senta, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “I don’t think you should magic it though. I think it would be nice if you made me supper with your own hands.”

Zurfina walked slowly across the room and then bent down so that their noses were just inches apart.

“It seems to me like the Drache Girl is getting a bit big for her knickers,” she said without a hint of a smile.

“Um… my dionoserin didn’t work?”

“It worked. Did you not see Mr. Jex scurry out of the room like a frightened buitreraptor?”

“But you’re not going to make me supper, are you?”

“Did you actually believe that you could dominate me with a potion? Me? ME!”

“No supper then?”

* * * * *

“What are the numbers on this piece then?” asked Terrence, holding up one of the square blocks.

“Two, twenty, ten, twenty,” replied Yuah.

“That’s the most powerful piece in the game then.”

“I suppose.”

The square blocks that the lizzie nurse maid had created were spread out on the coffee table as he tried to suss out the mechanics of the native game. Yuah was sitting next to him, pretending to read the latest Brysin’s. In fact, she was paying no attention to it at all, instead watching her husband.

“It must be Zurfina.”

“Obviously.” She looked at the tiny image. “Even the little figure on the block is whorish. Don’t you think twenty is a little high?”

“I didn’t make the game.” He picked up another piece. “What are the numbers on this one?”

“Two, zero, three, six.”

“No defense on this piece. You would have to screen it behind one of the pawns.”

“I suppose.”

“Its spirit power is pretty high. What is it, some kind of lizzie elder or something?”

“I really don’t understand why you’re wasting time on this ridiculous game.”

“What’s it to you?”

“You should be spending your time doing something constructive, that’s all. You should be writing a book.”

“I’m not a writer.”

“You write. I’ve seen you write. And there are many other things you could do. You could spend more time with your wife, that’s what you could do.”

“You’re right here. I’m spending time with you right now.”

“You’re playing with those stupid blocks.”

“And you’re reading your magazine.”

“Um, yes. Yes, I am.”

“What does it say?”

“It says that backs are coming back.”

“Thank God.”

“Do you think I would look good in something that showed more of my back?” she asked.

“I think you should show whatever you want.”

“You are horrible,” she said, her lips becoming very thin.

“Yes, I know. Get the lizzie to pour me a sherry.”

“What lizzie,” said Yuah, turning around and finding Cissy near the wall. “What are you doing sneaking around? Get my husband a sherry. It’s that drink over there on the hutch.”

The lizzie quickly crossed the room to pour the drink. She returned to the sofa, a sherry glass on a silver platter. When she was standing directly before Terrence, she let out a small hiss. He held out his hand and she maneuvered the tray so that his fingertips came into contact with the glass. He took a sip.

“That’s much better.” Then he held up the wooden block. “What is it on this one, Cissy?”

“You wife.”

“Ah, even so.”

* * * * *

“Hello Mr. Parnorsham,” called Senta as she entered the pfennig store, the bell above the door jingling as she entered.

“Good morning Senta. Is it still morning?” He pulled out his pocket watch and peered at it through his eyeglasses. “Good afternoon. Just barely.”

“Good just barely afternoon then.”

“What can I do for my favorite young sorceress?”

“I have fourteen pfennigs that are burning a hole in my pocket.”

Senta in fact did not even have a pocket. She had found a particularly ugly dress laid out for her that morning, attributing it to Zurfina’s anger. It was like wearing a big ugly sack that ballooned from her neck to the ground.

“Can I interest you in a soda water, and perhaps sugar candy or two?”

“I’ll take a Billingbow’s, and I’ll think on the candy.”

“Coming right up,” said Mr. Parnorsham, pulling a cold bottle of soda water from the icebox.

“Give me a straw too please,” said Senta. “That’s how proper ladies drink soda water.”

“So I understand,” he said, smiling as he handed her a straw. “And speaking of proper ladies…”

The bell above the door rang as Egeria Lusk entered. The white blouse that she wore along with her charcoal dress and tie made her brilliant red hair stand out all the more.

“Senta,” she called. “How lucky to run into you. I was just going to have Mr. Parnorsham deliver these invitations. I can just give you yours.”

“Are you the postman now, Mr. Parnorsham?” asked Senta.

“I do what I can,” he replied over his spectacles.

“We haven’t any proper post,” explained Miss Lusk. “So Mr. Parnorsham fills in by having the lizzies deliver them. It’s not proper for a lady to hand out invitations herself.”

“Oh,” said Senta, taking the invitation that the woman handed to her and looking at it like it was a bomb about to go off.

“I think this will be fine though, since you and I are such good friends,” continued Miss Lusk. “I can’t wait to show you around my home. You are free on the fifteenth, aren’t you?”

The girl nodded.

“Very good.” She handed the remaining envelopes to Mr. Parnorsham. “I would like these delivered as soon as practicable.”

“Yes, of course.”

“So, who all are you inviting?”

“Whom, dear. Whom am I inviting?”

“Right.”

“Just a dozen couples. It will be a simple affair. I hope you approve of the young people. I wanted to have pairs for games, so I’m inviting Graham Dokkins. I knew you would want him as your partner.”

Senta nodded as she swigged her soda water, forgetting about her straw.

“I’m inviting his sister, and your friend Hero and her brother, and young Mr. Finkler.”

“It’s not just kids, is it?”

“Oh no. In fact that’s all the young people. All the others will be quite mature, well, at least as far as years go.”

Senta nodded again.

“Senta?”

“Yeah?”

“It will be an afternoon party, so… do you have anything to wear that’s not… black?”

Senta had been afraid for a moment that she was going to say “horribly ugly.”

“I’ll ask Fina for something else,” she said, though she decided that she would wait several days before broaching the subject.

* * * * *

“Don’t get up on my account,” said Iolanthe as she entered the parlor.

“I wasn’t getting up at all,” said Yuah.

“Where is my brother?”

“I believe he’s gone for a walk.”

“You believe? You don’t know for sure?”

“I’m reasonably sure he’s taken a walk. Why? What do you want him for?”

“I don’t want him.”

Yuah sighed heavily. “Isn’t it almost tea?”

“I have instructed Mrs. Colbshallow that we shall have low tea in the parlor today.”

“Why?”

“Well, it will just be the four of us. Mercy is at his workshop and Terrence is, according to your best guess, taking a walk.”

“Fine,” said Yuah, setting the Brysin’s Weekly Ladies’ Journal that she had been holding but not looking at, on the coffee table. She reached up and rubbed her temples.

“Aren’t you feeling well?” asked Iolanthe.

“I have a headache.”

“This will cheer you up,” said Iolanthe, handing her an envelope. “This came for you earlier today.”

“It’s been opened.”

“Yes, I just had to make sure that it was the same as mine. I wouldn’t want to RSVP for you for the wrong engagement.”

“RSVP?”

“Not to worry. It’s all taken care of.”

“You opened my mail and you sent an RSVP for me?”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“It’s my mail!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me.”

“It’s my mail, and it’s from my…”

“Future mother?”

Yuah’s chin dropped to her chest. “My head is going to explode.”

* * * * *

“He hasn’t even come out of his apartment since he returned from Iguanodon Heath,” said Hero. “I overheard Private Cornish say that he’s just waiting for his ship to arrive so that he can go home to the fatherland… to Freedonia I mean.”

“I don’t think we need to bother watching Mr. Streck anymore children,” said Terrence.

He was standing in the alley about half a mile from the Dechantagne estate with the two Hertling twins. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of large silver one mark coins, giving one to each child.

“Thank you,” said Hero. Hertzal nodded, though the man didn’t see.

“You earned it, as you’ve earned the other. I hope you haven’t grown used to living beyond your means.”

“Oh no, sir. All of our earnings go to our sister for the household.”

“Well that won’t do.” He reached deep into his pocket and pulled out another pair of coins. “If I gave you another mark, you’d probably just give that to your sister as well, but here’s a quarter mark for each of you. That way you can at least buy yourselves some candy and a toy.”

“I don’t know if that would be proper, sir,” said Hero.

“What’s the picture on that coin?” asked Terrence, pushing both into her hand.

She took them and handed one to her brother. “It’s an old man.”

“Yes, that’s the King. What is on the reverse?”

“It’s a building… a palace.”

“That’s the Palace Eidenia in Brech. To my mind, it’s the most beautiful piece of architecture in the world, and nobody lives there.”

“Nobody?”

“Well, I suppose there are caretakers and the like. Well, be on your way children. Go play, or spend some of your money. And you can tell your friend, the Drache Girl, that she doesn’t need to bother with Streck either.

“I’ll tell her,” said the girl. “She does what she wants though.”

“Yes, I know the type.”

Hertzal pulled on his sister’s sleeve.

“Mine brud… my brother, wants to know if you would like us to walk home with you.”

Terrence smiled but it was difficult to judge how sincere it might be, absent his eyes. “You see that lizzie hiding behind the tree about fifty feet behind me?”

The twins looked and spotted the creature just about where the man said it was.

“My wife has sent it along to make sure I don’t wander too far astray.”

When the children had gone, he turned around and snapped his fingers, waving the lizzie over to him. When it came close, he cocked his head to the side.

“Cissy, isn’t it? Speak damn it, I can’t hear you nod your head.”

Cissy hissed.

“Yes, I thought so. Sirrek is much quieter when he follows me. Were you listening in?”

Cissy hissed again.

“I know you lot don’t hear as well as we do.”

“You say no whatch Sstreck.”

“Ah, you were listening. I know Iolanthe has you watching him and she may well want you to continue. That’s her business. I don’t think he’s worth the trouble. You will keep at the assignment I’ve given you.”

“Whatch you wife.”

“Yes. Keep an eye on her.”

“You fraid for wife. You fraid cause she’s Zaeri.”

“Yes. Most of your people can’t tell us apart, let alone understand the intricacies of our politics. But I keep forgetting. You read books, don’t you? What else to you do?”

“Read Taters. Read Drysin’s”

“Taters? Papers? You read the papers and the magazines? I’m surprised Iolanthe hasn’t caught you. Maybe you’re sneakier than I thought.”

“Hoonan wife, childs intortant. You kill for wife, childs.”

“That’s right,” said Terrence quietly. “You remember that.”

“Cissy know.”

“Come on. Let’s go home.” He put his hand on the lizzie’s shoulder, silently indicating that she should guide him.

It was a sunny day. The patches of snow on the ground were rapidly disappearing and the first wildflowers were popping up all along the alleyway. The first aerial scouts of what would soon be an insect army were buzzing here and there, and a few early birds were taking advantage. They would swoop down, catching a bug on the wing, and then light on one of the outermost branches and puff up their feathers.

“You may go to your quarters,” said Terrence, as they reached the gate. “I can make my way from here.”

And he walked briskly across the yard and up the back steps without the least hesitation. One would never have known he couldn’t see if he hadn’t missed the doorknob on the first try.

Cissy made her way around the corner of the motor shed, but stopped short when she almost ran into Shoss. He was a nondescript lizzie who had come from Chusstuss and had been hired at the Dechantagne house shortly after Cissy. She started to step around him, but he moved so that he was in her way.

“What do you want?” hissed Cissy.

“Where have you been?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business now.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I am not going to leave you alone. I am going to be right here, all the time. It is known that you have no people. Tserich doesn’t want you. None of the other villages will want you either. Nobody wants you. That means you have no hut elder.”

“I do not need a village. I do not need a hut elder.”

“I will be your hut elder. You are going to give me your copper bits.”

“I will not.”

“If you do not, I will cut that pretty tail of yours.”

“Is there a problem?”

It took Cissy a moment to realize that the words were not in the lizzie language, but rather the warbling tongue of the humans. Terrence Dechantagne stepped from behind Cissy, one hand on her shoulder. With his other hand, he reached out and touched Shoss’s snout. Shoss was only average height for a lizzie male, but that put him several inches taller than the human, and he was not hunkering down, as he and the others so often did.

“No trodlent,” said Shoss. His Brech was not as good as many of the other lizzies on staff.

“That’s not what it sounded like to me.”

Shoss looked confused. It was clear that he was uncomfortable talking to a human. He still was not making himself small. He had either forgotten how to act or realizing that this particular human couldn’t see him, decided not to make the effort.

“Go. No trodlent”

“Is this lizzie causing you a problem?”

Cissy glanced quickly around. This sentence seemed as though it was aimed at another human, but there wasn’t one around. It had to have been directed at her. Before she could say anything though, Shoss, his face beginning to turn dark with frustration hissed out an angry reply in his native language.

“You stupid blind piece of excrement. You should be left in the forest so that the feathered runners can feast on your entrails.”

Without warning Terrence pulled a revolver out of his pocket and fired. The bullet hit Shoss in his abdomen, and he dropped to the ground. The human gingerly kicked him with the toe of his boot, and once sure where he was lying, aimed the gun downward and fired four more times. Shoss’s body slowly uncurled, ending up in an odd and vaguely unsettling position. His eyes looked up blankly at the sky.

“I only know a few of those words,” said the man, kicking the now dead lizzie, twice, hard. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m ghahkut. I know it every time I get up in the morning and can’t see anything. And I owe it to your kind!”

Cissy hunkered down as small as she could go, but Terrence didn’t turn toward her. Suddenly they were surrounded by a dozen humans and lizzies. Mrs. Dechantagne grabbed hold of her husband around the waist, but he shrugged her off. Sisson bent down to check Shoss, but there was no doubt that he was dead.

“What is going on here?” demanded Governor Dechantagne-Calliere.

“No need to bother yourself, sister,” said Terrence, anger still hanging on his every syllable. “I was just disciplining the staff.”

“Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” asked Mrs. Dechantagne.

“Where’s Tisson?” called Terrence.

“Here.”

“Get this piece of ssotook out of my garden.”

* * * * *

“Um, hello,” said Mr. Jex, tip-toeing down the last few steps into the parlor.

“Hi,” said Senta, as she took off her coat and hung it on the hook.

“Is it safe to come down?”

“Actually this is probably the safest part of the house,” said Senta thoughtfully. “Come on down. I won’t hurt you. I’m just a kid.”

“What about the dragon?”

“He won’t bother you,” she said, glancing at the steel dragon, sleeping in the corner. “How is the painting coming?”

“I just finished. I think it is some of my best work.”

Senta murmured noncommittally.

“Not that it was the easiest. Zurfina was…”

“Let me interrupt you there,” said Senta. “Don’t mistakenly think that just because Fina is three stories above us, she won’t know it if you say something bad about her.”

“I was just going to say that she didn’t always remain still.”

“I would imagine that’s true. Do you want something to eat?”

“Um, Zurfina told me to leave.”

“She told you to leave now?”

“She said it’s because you are home. She doesn’t want you to be upset.”

“Well, that’s kind of nice. You can’t leave now though. It’s after dark. You’ll be eaten by a predator.”

“Oh, um, what should I do?”

“Hey sleepy-head!” Senta called to Bessemer. “Get up and walk Mr. Jex home.”

The dragon stood up, stretched, and then moved quickly to the man’s side.

“Are you sure it will be okay?” asked Mr. Jex.

“Everything will be fine,” said Bessemer, and Senta burst out laughing.

It took the painter a few minutes to get his cold weather gear on, and then he was gone, the steel dragon at his heel. Senta put a pot on the stove, and then sat down with a cup and her primer.

“It’s about time you were back at your studies,” said Zurfina, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Every time I try to start, something comes up.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you. Carry on.”

“Fina, why did you send your… painter home in the dark?”

“It’s apparent that you don’t want me entertaining men here while you are at home. I suppose I have to respect your wishes.”

“But he could be eaten by the tyrannosaurus.”

“Well,” said Zurfina, turning and starting up the stairs. “The painting was done anyway.”

Chapter Fourteen: The Day of the Daggers

The next few days grew progressively warmer. It was as if the land couldn’t wait for the return of spring. Senta certainly couldn’t wait. The snowdrifts between the great redwoods disappeared, and she began to wander through the forest around the tower. Sometimes Graham came with her, but it was impossible to coax Hero beyond the relative safety of the road or the yard.

Three days after Mr. Jex had completed Zurfina’s painting, Senta got up early in the morning and went to the Hertling home. She hoped that she could lend a hand with household chores, supposing that this might endear her to Hero’s sister Honor. She had forgotten though that it was the Zaeri Sabbath, and the Hertlings, like the other Zaeri, were attending shrine, or rather the neighborhood lot on which they hoped to have a shrine built sometime in the future. She considered joining them, as non-Zaeri were allowed to sit in the back, but the prospect of an hour or more of she-wasn’t-too-sure what in a dead language she couldn’t understand dissuaded her. She stopped by the Dokkins house hoping to find Graham, but he wasn’t home. More and more, he had been getting odd jobs around the dock, and a ship had come in from Freedonia the day before.

Senta skipped down Bay Street, which was one of the two parallel roadways that ran south from Town Square. The earliest flowers had popped their heads up to enjoy the new sun. Blue ones and white ones, they were all very tiny compared to the blossoms that would appear later. The girl didn’t know what they were called, but she instinctively knew that they heralded the return of spring, and this put lightness into her heart and step. In no time, she had gathered together quite a bouquet and had reached the southern limit of the road.

Beyond was the wilderness. It had been uninterrupted forest just a few years before, but now the land for several miles from where she stood was a ragged looking plain having been logged extensively by the colonists, with only a few copses of standing trees here and there.

“You shouldn’t be out alone,” said a heavily accented voice. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize its owner, but turn around she did.

“I thought you were hiding in your apartment,” she told Streck. “I heard you got quite a scare on your hunting trip.”

“This place is a hell-hole. It’s not fit for a civilized man, and it won’t be until the monsters and the Eidechse are wiped out.”

“The Eidechse? You mean the lizzies? You can’t wipe all of them out. There are millions, not just the lot around here. They have some big cities to the south and west. I’ve seen one.”

“You would be surprised what can be done.”

“What do you want anyway? You want to finish our duel?”

“Oh, I have seen your shield spell and I am suitably impressed. It is clear you are a gifted, if boastful, child.”

“I think I asked already… what is it you want?”

“I’m just here to say goodbye, little bit.” Streck smiled. “My ship is here and I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Good riddance then,” said Senta.

Steck’s face turned even more sour. “I am inviting you to come with me. Not only will you learn to respect your elders, you will learn the true magic—far more than you will ever learn with your Zurfina.”

“What is it with you exactly?” asked the girl. “Do you want to open up my brain and scoop out the magic, or are you one of those weirdoes that like little girls?”

“I want to join the Reine Zauberei.”

“I thought you were one already.”

“I was, but I didn’t advance as fast as I should have... as fast as I could have. They suspended my studies and I was left to work as a solicitor. But now I have a chance to return, you see. The Reine Zauberei will appreciate you. They appreciate power, and you have more power than I, at first, thought. Even if you can’t do all that you say you can, a shield spell from one so young will be impressive enough. And in return for my bringing you to them, I will be reinstated.”

“So, you want to use me for your own benefit.”

“Oh, it will be good for you too, little bit. In the Reine Zauberei, you will…”

Steck’s voice trailed off and his mouth went slack. All the color drained from his face. At the moment Senta realized that he was looking at something behind her, she heard the tremendous bellow. Turning around, she saw not one, but two tyrannosaurs striding quickly toward them. One was smaller, perhaps only ten feet tall and thirty-five feet long. The other was a huge fifty-footer, and judging by the scarred and uglier-than-usual face, it had to be the one that she had hit with the fireball a month earlier. It opened its mouth wide and roared, its teeth looking like a hundred daggers.

“Run, you wanker!” shouted Senta, rushing past Streck and making a diagonal path toward the edge of the road.

She looked back over her shoulder to see that he hadn’t moved at all. The horrendous beasts were almost on top of him.

“Uuthanum rechthinov uluchaiia!” she shouted, pointing. A bolt of lightning flew from her fingertip, past the Freedonian, hitting the smaller dinosaur in the chest. It dropped onto its face, rolled across the ground, in a cloud of mud and dirt and then clambered back to its feet.

Streck seemed to have finally woken up and began to cast a spell. He was not finished though, when the larger tyrannosaurus reached him, and without so much as slowing down, scooped him up, chomped twice, and swallowed him. It then turned slightly and continued on its way, directly toward Senta.

“Kafira!” she cried, turning and running off the road and into the trees.

The girl dodged in and out of the tree trunks, mentally thanking Zurfina for laying out clothing that didn’t restrict her running. She could hear the nine ton monster behind her, loud snaps as it broke tree trunks with its body, its breathing, interspersed with a peculiar coughing grunt. Keeping her head as best she could, she ran near the largest of the redwoods and maples, knowing that the large predatory dinosaur did not like moving around in the woods. She chanced one quick glance behind her and squealed in fear as she saw it had gained on her. The creature indeed was having trouble negotiating the woods, but each step was many times longer than one of the ten-year-old’s.

She began casting the fireball spell as she ran. “Uuthanum uluchaiia uluth…ah!” She was interrupted when her foot caught on a root. She managed to keep her feet beneath her, but the spell was lost. Then suddenly, her head exploded in pain. Not only did the spell not work, but she was suffering the ill effects anyway. Her foot slid in the muddy soil and she went tumbling down a small ravine, coming to a stop on her stomach. Pressing her face into the ground, she hoped the rich peaty smell of the soil would hide that of the blood she could feel oozing from her nose. Placing her hands over her neck, she whispered “uuthanum,” hoping her body would be completely camouflaged by the obfuscation spell.

She could hear the dinosaur as it came to a stop. She could still hear the breathing and the coughing grunt. It sounded like it was right on top of her, but she didn’t look. She didn’t move. She didn’t know how long she lay there. She didn’t even know if she had managed to stay conscious through the pain. At last, after what seemed an eternity, the throbbing in her head began to ebb and she realized that she no longer heard the grunting. She no longer heard the breathing. Ever so slowly, she turned her head and looked. There was nothing there. She crawled on her belly up the side of the ravine and looked over the edge. The tyrannosaurus was gone.

* * * * *

“There is no way Mr. Haarhoff,” insisted Mayor Korlann, “that you can place any of the blame for what happened to your hunting trip on our militiamen.”

“I have been hunting all over the world,” blustered the Bordonian hunter, his face becoming progressively redder. “I have never had this kind of disaster. Therefore the fault must be with either your men or these lizzie guides they hired. We should never have camped where we were.”

“As I recall,” said Saba, “it was you who wanted to be as close to Iguanodon Heath as possible.”

“But I am not a native. How could I know?”

The men crowded into the Mayor’s office had been shouting accusingly at one another for almost half an hour. In addition to Haarhoff and Saba and the Mayor, Sergeant Clark and Private Croffut sat around the desk.

“Mr. Haarhoff,” said the Mayor. “No one is more sorry than I for the deaths of your friends, but I don’t know exactly what you want me to do about…”

He was interrupted by Private Manring bursting in, followed closely by Mayor Korlann’s secretary Miss Gertz.

“I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop him.”

“It’s alright Cady.”

“Two tyrannosaurs at the south edge of town!” shouted Manring. “Ten minutes ago!”

The militiamen all jumped to their feet.

“Two sections, full gear,” Clark ordered, and Saba and Croffut pushed their way out the door.

“Well Haarhoff?” said Clark. “Here’s your chance. Coming or not?”

The hunter gave a quick nod and followed him out.

Half an hour later fourteen men gathered at the southern end of Bay Street. With them was Tassy, one of the two lizzie trackers who had gone on the hunting expedition. Though Haarhoff glowered at him, he appeared not to notice. As it turned out, there was not to be much need for a tracker. Signs of the tyrannosaurs were easily identified. Great footprints in the gravel road came from the south. There was a large scrape where some kind of tussle had occurred and one of the beasts had moved into the forest to the west, only to tramp back out and continue east with its smaller mate.

“What are they doing?” wondered Clark.

Tassy replied, using pigeon Breck.

“These big fellows don’t like it in the heavy forest,” explained Croffut. “They can’t maneuver around. The woods aren’t as thick over this way. They may cut north and end up in Zaeritown or even by the Governor’s house or they might turn south back into the deforested area. There are quite a few game dinosaurs there.”

“This is damned peculiar. Everything I’ve heard about the tyrannosaurus indicates they are solitary hunters.”

“It must be a seasonal thing,” offered Saba. “There was more than one together at Iguanodon Heath too. Maybe they get together during the mating season. Spring is hard on, after all. Maybe we should be asking the lizzies about that?”

“You don’t want to trust your lives to them,” said Willy.

“Well one is bad enough,” said Clark. “Colbshallow, you take fire team one on the left, Croffut with fire team two on the right. The rest will come with me and Haarhoff down the center.”

The militiamen set off into the forest, following the trail of the two beasts. This area of the woods had more than its fair share of massive redwoods and great maple trees. It was the smaller trees and much of the brush that was thinner here than in many places in the surrounding area. Saba followed along to the left of the others, just beyond the easily detectable path of the dinosaurs. His fire team consisted of Shrubb, Manring, and Cornish.

About a mile from Bay Street, the path of the tyrannosaurs turned. Saba was pleased to see that they were turning south, away from the populated area. The tracks led thought the increasingly sparse woodland, and out into the scraggly plain. The land here was dotted with tree trunks, in between which grew an army of year-old saplings. The space between the individual footfalls widened as the dinosaurs had increased their speed. The soldiers were able to spread out, but kept roughly the same formation.

After another mile, Croffut suddenly raised his hand. The entire party dropped down to a squatting position. The creatures were several hundred yards away, the upper halves of their bodies peaking over a low rise, but once pointed out, everyone could see them. The larger one was feasting on a big carcass, while the smaller one was circling it. Neither was letting loose with the roar for which such creatures were justly famous.

“Fire team one and two spread out,” ordered Clark quietly. “I want them in a crossfire. Now, let’s take it slow. We don’t want to spook them. I don’t want them getting away and I don’t want them to charge us either.”

The fifteen hunters, human and lizzie, inched forward. It was slow and nerve wracking business, but about thirty minutes later they were in position. Saba’s team was on the left hand side of the small hillock that had partially obscured the tyrannosaurs. Croffut’s team was on the other side, out of Saba’s sight. The other six humans and the lizzie were visible at the top of the hill. Clark looked toward Saba and gave the “ready” signal, then turned, presumably giving the same signal to Croffut. Saba felt the smooth wood stock and smelled the familiar cleaning oil of his B1898 magazine-fed bolt-action .30 caliber service rifle. It was cool and comforting. A second later they all began firing.

Saba had aimed at the smaller tyrannosaurus, and calmly discharged his weapon five times. Each was intended as a head shot, and Saba was confident that he hit his target. The dinosaur started to stagger. He lowered his sites to the creature’s body and fired five more shots, one after another. Pausing to drop his magazine and replace it with a full one, he continued to watch the targets. The smaller tyrannosaurus took several steps and then flopped down onto its stomach.

“Kafira!” shouted Manring at his side.

The air was rent with the horrifyingly familiar scream of the tyrant lizard, but it didn’t come from either of the monsters at which they were shooting. Saba looked to his left to see three more of the nightmares running toward him from the side. Working the bolt action to put a round in his rifle’s chamber, he began firing at the new targets. One of the creatures went tumbling to the ground, its neck vertebrae snapping loudly as it flopped over, tripping one of the other two. The second creature fell to the ground, but not badly injured began to roll to its belly to get up. The third ran straight toward Saba, its massive open maw perfectly on target to snatch him up into the razor sharp teeth.

Saba could actually see down the tyrannosaur’s throat, when he was knocked out of the way by the heavy body of Eamon Shrubb. They both rolled onto their backs, firing almost straight up at the monster, which had skidded to a stop virtually on top of them. It reached down and bit another member of the fire team in half, though Saba couldn’t tell if it was Manring or Cornish. He emptied his clip and popped in another, his last. Just as he began firing again, he saw from the corner of his eye that Shrubb was doing the same thing. Where was their help? Why weren’t the men at the top of the hill shooting at this Kafira-cursed thing? Then the third tyrannosaurus rushed past the second and up the incline toward the other men. Saba and Shrubb both fired again and their beast finally crumpled.

“After this one, mate!” shouted Shrubb jumping up and going after the third dinosaur.

Saba followed. They moved up a dozen steps, shooting as they went. The creature reared up and fell back toward them. Saba jumped to the side just as the dinosaur rolled over the spot he had just occupied. Then he saw yet another tyrannosaurus at the top of the hill. It had a body in its mouth, which it tossed into the air and snatched back, swallowing it down. Saba emptied the rest of his clip, moving up as he did. Just as he fired the last of his ammunition, the beast crumpled to the ground.

“Are there any more of these bastards?” yelled Clark, as Saba reached him.

Saba didn’t look around for more dinosaurs. He knew others were doing that. Instead, he looked around the ground, finding the lower half of a militiaman he couldn’t identify with a partially full ammunition pouch, he reloaded his rifle. Only then did he scan the surrounding area. There were no more living tyrannosaurs. There were seven dead ones through. They had been concentrating on the two that they had tracked, and had been ambushed from both sides.

“Alright, who’s left?” asked Amoz Croffut, reaching the top of the rise.

He was the sole survivor of his fire team. Haarhoff was dead. Nearby, the lizzie, Tassy, was lying on the ground, hissing pitifully. The flesh from most of his back and his entire tail had been ripped off of his body. Croffut shot the lizardman in the head.

“He would have asked for it, if he could have,” he said when Saba looked at him.

“Yeah.” Saba felt more sorry for the lizzie than he did the Bordonian hunter.

“There’s not much of Willy left,” said Manring, limping up to the others, his leg bent at an odd angle. “I can’t find Eamon at all. The thing must have swallowed him whole.”

“No, no,” said Saba. “He was right next to me.”

Running down to where he had last seen the private, Saba called out “Shrubb! Where are you?” He looked around the body of the beast that had almost rolled over him. Sticking out from beneath its side was a booted foot.

“Eamon!”

The foot moved.

“Get over here! Everyone!”

It was all the remaining seven men, some of them injured, could do to lift up the belly of the creature enough that they could pull the man out from beneath it. When his face appeared, Shrubb took a deep breath.

“Kafira, I couldn’t breathe under there.”

“Can you walk?” asked Saba.

“I think so, if you can help me get up. My chest hurts like anybody’s business.”

The group hadn’t yet returned to the furthest reach of Bay Street, when they were met by a full platoon of militiamen on their way to find them. With so many hands to help carry the injured, they were able to reach the base by dusk. The building that had been designated the company hospital became a flurry of activity, with the local acolytes Sister Auni and Brother Galen, along with Dr. Kelloran working to aid the wounded. Croffet, Clark, and Saba were the only members of the expedition with no serious injuries. Manring’s leg was broken in several places and Eamon Shrubb had a broken clavicle and four broken ribs.

* * * * *

Senta waited by the fire, warming herself, until the kettle whistled. She removed the kettle and took it to the kitchen, transferring the hot water to the teapot and dropping in the infuser, which she had already loaded with tea. She stood waiting, her mind dulled by the remnants of her headache, and probably by the after-effects of an adrenaline rush. At last, she took her cup and scooped three spoonfuls of sugar and poured her tea, though it was still scarcely darker than water, and sat down in the comfy chair. She had not yet taken a sip of her tea when the door opened and Zurfina came in.

“Is there more tea?” she asked.

Senta pointed with her teacup.

“It’s not very dark,” said the sorceress, once she had poured hers. “Are you sure you put enough in?”

“It’s not very dark because our tea isn’t very good,” said the girl. “One would think the world’s greatest sorceress could afford proper tea leaves instead of having to make do with the fannings.”

“If you want better tea, order better tea,” said Zurfina. “I’m not stopping you. Surely it can be had. After all, we’re closer to Mallontah than Sumir.”

As she took a sip, Senta felt a stinging and reached up to find dried blood caked around her nostrils. She scratched some of it off bringing tears to her eyes.

“Tomorrow I want to show you a bit of divination.”

“I thought you didn’t like divining.”

“It’s not my favorite part of the arts, but it is good for your skin,” said the sorceress. “Conjuring can be… well, you’ll find out. You know you look out of sorts. Are you feeling alright?”

“No.”

Zurfina waited for a moment, and when no further information was forthcoming, she asked. “So what is the matter?”

“I was almost eaten, if you must know.”

“Oh no. Not again.”

“Yes.”

“Well, what was it this time?”

“A tyrannosaurus.”

“Oh my. How horribly uninteresting.”

“No, not just one tyrannosaurus, two tyrannosaurusesuses.”

“Now you’re just making things up.”

“I am not!”

“Well, in any case, it’s not much of a story. I myself was once almost eaten by a hydra…”

“Yes, I know. With nine heads.”

“That’s right, nine heads. Nine heads. With nine heads you’ve got a story to tell. So until you’ve been almost eaten by a hydra with nine heads, or I suppose almost been eaten by nine of those tyrannothingies, which if I’m not mistaken have only one head each, don’t try to make out that you’re all that special.”

“I didn’t say I was special, you batty twonk! You asked me!”

“Well, now you’re just being difficult.” She started toward the stairs. “Finish your tea and then go take a bath. You have dirt and blood all over your face.”

* * * * *

Eamon Shrubb suddenly loomed over the bunk where Saba had been lying all morning reading. One would never have known that he had been injured from the way he moved. He looked a bit stouter than he actually was, owing to the thick wrapping of bandages around his torso. Saba watched Eamon’s face and could read his thoughts as he decided whether to try and sit down on the next bunk, eventually opting to lean against the support pillar instead.

“Are you sure you should be up and around already? After all, a dinosaur fell on you.”

“Two days in bed is more than enough for me. How is your book then?”

“Better than I thought it was going to be,” said Saba.

“What’s it called?”

“The Man who Loved his Gardener.”

“Doesn’t sound very good.”

“Well, the gardener is a woman.”

“Oh.”

“And she’s not really a gardener. She’s a prostitute.”

“Are you almost done with it?”

“Almost.”

“I’ve never been much of a reader, but…”

“Thinking of broadening your horizons, are you?”

“Now would be the proper time, don’t you think?” asked Eamon. “I’m on light duty for the next four weeks.”

“What would you say to a bit of a luncheon?”

“I generally don’t talk to my food,” replied Eamon. “Are you going to the governor’s house?”

“I was thinking that I would.”

“I’m going to have to bow out in that case,” said Eamon. “Don’t feel like walking that far.”

“How about a trip down the hill to the fish and chips cart?”

“I don’t want you to miss out.”

“Believe me, I’m not missing anything… besides the food, I mean.”

They walked down Seventh and One Half Avenue to the dockyards, where the food carts had been doing business for some time. Dockworkers and crewmen from the ship in port, the Vaterland, as well as some other militiamen had already procured their meals and were busy tucking in. Saba and Eamon both ordered fish and chips, but then failed to locate a place to sit down and eat. Wandering north past several large warehouses, they came to the edge of the land that had been set aside as Augustus P. Dechantagne Park.

The land in the park was not yet prepared. None of the proposed walkways or fountains or fruit trees had been put in. But right at the edge of the still undeveloped area was a very large pile of very large wooden crates, one of which was open and sitting right next to it was a brand new park bench.

“Look at that,” said Eamon, stepping quickly over and sitting gingerly down.

“Think it will hold both of us?”

“If it holds me it will hold both of us, Corporal Beanpole.”

Saba sat down.

“I suppose we’re the first two people to sit on a bench in the park,” he observed.

“Actually, I am the first person to sit,” replied Eamon, before taking a big bite of golden fried fish. “You’re the second.”

“Unless whoever unboxed this sat down on it to check it out. I would have.”

“Why are you trying to steal my thunder? I deserve to be the first one to sit on this bench, and for that matter, you deserve to be the second one. After all, we just killed some dangerous dinosaurs. We’re like heroes.”

“Yes,” replied Saba. “Not heroes, but like heroes. Um, speaking of the dinosaurs, thanks for that. You saved my life.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. You pushed me out of the way just in time.”

“Well that was lucky, wasn’t it? Are you going to eat your fish, or not?”

“Yes, I’m going to eat it. I feel bad about Willy… the others too, but Willy was a good egg. I guess he wasn’t the main character in his book after all though.”

“What?”

“Oh, he said he was the main character in a book somebody would write some day about his life.”

“Bit of an ego, eh?”

“I suppose. I kind of envy that feeling of superiority. I sometimes feel like I’m not the main character in my own story.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at it. Here I am among the founders of the colony—the Dechantagnes. I’m just the son of the cook. The main character in this story would be the governor, or Yuah… um, Mrs. Dechantagne. That would be a good story. Or how about Zurfina?”

“There are men in this colony, you know; even in the Dechantagne family.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve just listed off the important women in the colony.”

“Alright, there are men too.”

“One would think you were fixated.”

“I said alright.” Saba frowned.

“You need to get yourself a girl, that’s what you need.”

“Shut up,” said Saba.

Chapter Fifteen: The Tea Party and After

Looking back on it, Senta thought that Zurfina had done exceptionally well in providing her with a white dress. As she walked to Egeria Lusk’s house though, all she could think about was how it made her look even younger than normal. It was a white lace knee-length dress that fit over a white ankle-length underdress. She had matching white stockings and white boots, and she carried a lace parasol. She met Graham, his sister Gaylene, and their parents in front of Finkler’s Bakery, where they were waiting for Aalwijn.

“That’s a nice dress Senta,” said Gaylene.

She was about a head taller than her younger brother, whom she greatly resembled. They both had light brown hair and very large teeth. She was dressed in a lovely white day dress that must have just been purchased from Mrs. Bratihn’s, trimmed with yellow lace and small yellow hearts. Mrs. Dokkins, who was wearing a similar, grown up version of the dress, as always was smiling pleasantly, despite the fact that she had been unable to get her husband into the proper clothing for the occasion. Mr. Dokkins had on a clean white shirt, a pair of dungarees, and a straw hat.

Aalwijn, in his best shrine clothes, soon joined them. He looked from one girl to the other, not sure to whom he owed his attention.

“Come on,” said Mr. Dokkins. “Let’s get this over with.”

Graham stuck a finger into his stiff collar and tugged. “There’s an idea.”

They met Hero and Hertzal in front of Miss Lusk’s house. They were both dressed in their usual grey and white clothes, simple, unadorned, but well maintained.

“Good morning,” said Hero, glancing shyly at Aalwijn, who was completely oblivious to her presence.

“Keep moving,” said Graham.

Egeria Lusk met them all at the step and guided them in. The front door opened into a foyer, and then led through a large arched walkway into the parlor. Both rooms were exquisitely decorated with hand-carved wooden moldings, golden drapes, and beaded chandeliers, but were sparsely furnished. In the center of the parlor sat several pieces of rattan furniture. Lawrence and Etta Bratihn and Laird and Dora Luebking were already seated, sipping tea. Mayor Korlann entered from the back, carrying a tray filled with another pot and two stacks of teacups.

“Zeah, stop that,” demanded Miss Lusk. “The lizzies are supposed to be serving, not you.”

“Chunny,” she called to a big lizzie following him into the room. “Keep the mayor out of the kitchen.”

The lizzie nodded.

“Come along with me,” she said to the new arrivals. “The Bratihns and the Luebkings have already had the tour.”

She led them through the two-story mansion. It was more richly decorated than anything any of them had seen, and while the rooms downstairs were still mostly devoid of furniture, the upstairs was filled with antiques and finely crafted birch and cherry wood furnishings. By the time they had returned to the parlor, the rest of the guests had arrived, so Miss Lusk led the Parnorshams, the Darwins, the Wissingers, the Dechantagnes, and Professor and Mrs. Calliere on a similar excursion.

Once everyone had been shown around and had been fed finger sandwiches and biscuits, games began. Miss Lusk had invited only couples so that they could play table games, and the games had been arranged around the room. They played draughts, dominoes, fox and geese, and boiler fancy. A good time was had by all, and in the end, they all agreed that Miss Lusk was the most skilled, defying at every turn the mayor’s apparent attempts to let the other teams win.

Afterwards, more tea was poured and the older guests fell into small conversational groups, while the children continued playing. Iolanthe found herself with Egeria Lusk, Mrs. Bratihn, and Mrs. Luebking.

“I do believe that Yuah is avoiding me,” said the red-haired hostess. “She hasn’t said a word to me since she arrived.”

“Don’t take it personally,” said Iolanthe. “I believe she’s under too much stress. She’s constantly complaining of a headache.”

“Married life will do that to you,” said Mrs. Bratihn.

“It’s not for everyone,” agreed Mrs. Luebking.

“Maybe I’ll send her around for another dress,” said Iolanthe. “A new dress or a new hat always makes me feel better.”

“She’s bought quite a few dresses lately,” said Mrs. Bratihn. “But…”

She and Mrs. Luebking looked at one another and said at the same time. “Shoes.”

When the two had moved on to talk with Mrs. Dokkins and Mrs. Parnorsham, Egeria took Iolanthe aside.

“I’ve had a letter from a friend of mine in Portsmouth,” she said. “She tells me that our friend Lieutenant Staff has been promoted to Lieutenant Commander.”

“Indeed,” replied Iolanthe coldly. “Why would you suppose that I would be interested in that?”

“No particular reason. Just that he was on our ship. It’s always nice to hear the news about an acquaintance, even if he is only an acquaintance, and nothing more.”

“Yes of course.” Iolanthe pursed her lips. “If you have any other news about him… or any other ships officers we may know, you may tell me.”

Yuah and Terrence were speaking with Zossef and Magda Wissinger. Yuah knew the middle-aged couple quite well from shrine, but her husband had until now not met them. They were from Freedonia and had arrived the year before on the first ship that Iolanthe had chartered from that country.

“Your sister is a very wonderful woman,” Mrs. Wissinger told Terrence. “She is helping many people, sending ships to help refugees escape.”

“Yes,” he replied. “She’s always been the giving sort.”

“Terrence is being modest,” interjected Yuah. “He’s just as much a part of it as she is. It’s a family enterprise, and it’s really his money...”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something ever since Yuah mentioned knowing you,” Terrence interrupted. “Are you related to the writer Isaak Wissinger?”

“Oh yes,” replied Mrs. Wissinger. “He is my husband’s cousin. Isn’t he wonderful?”

“He is my fourth cousin once removed,” said her husband. “I only saw him once at a family reunion, and that was before his first book was published.”

“You’ve read them of course,” said Terrence. “I have all five in my library. I’d like to have a signed edition some day.”

Across the room, Mr. Parnorsham latched onto Miss Lusk’s arm as she passed by.

“Thank you for inviting my wife and me. We don’t get a chance to socialize very often. I imagine the same thing is true for the Darwins.”

The Darwins stood near the fireplace, listening in rapt attention along with Mr. Luebking and Professor Calliere as Lawrence Bratihn told the story of some adventure or another.

“You know what you could use, Miss Lusk,” Mr. Parnorsham continued. “You could use a music box. It’s mechanical, it’s mathematical, it’s beautiful. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who would appreciate it more.”

“I shall consider it,” replied Miss Lusk. “I do have a keen interest in music.”

As the guests began to leave, Terrence pulled Lawrence Bratihn aside.

“I want you to know, that when I go, you’re going back with me. We’ll both see again.”

“Are you ready then? It’s quite a trip. You’re a newlywed. Are you going to take your new wife with you or leave her here?”

Terrence waved the notion aside, though the other man couldn’t see him.

“I’m ready to go. It’s not that. We have to have a high level priest and a high level wizard, and wizards tend to be expensive, and we have to have them together at the same time. It’s proving damned hard to schedule especially over long distance.”

“If you can get it set up, I’ll be ready to go,” said Bratihn. “But I’ve made my peace. If I don’t ever get my sight back, it won’t be the end of the world.”

“You’re a better man than I am, Lawrence.”

Gaylene Dokkins left with her parents, but her brother stayed to walk home with his friends. After bidding thank you and good-bye to Miss Lusk he, Hero and Hertzal, and Senta walked east towards the Hertling home.

“You know Hertzal, there’s more and more work at the dockyards,” said Graham. “I’ll bet you and I could get on there full time. Foreman jobs too.”

“You think you’re old enough to be a foreman?” asked Senta.

“Sure, and think of all the money. We’d be able to buy whatever we wanted.”

“Like presents for a pretty girl?”

“Um, maybe.”

Hertzal elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stop it. I know her birthday’s coming up.”

Senta looked at him.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to get you a present, but that’s not what I was thinking about buying.”

“What do you want to buy then?”

“I’m going to get a copy of Colonel Mormont's journal.”

“What do you need that for?”

“Remember what Hero read? He was talking about Tyrannosauruses hunting in packs. That’s something nobody around here knew about until this past week. Maybe there’s something else important in there. Kafira knows we’re not getting all the goods from the lizzies.”

“Maybe we should all read Colonel Mormont’s journal,” said Senta.

“I wish I’d thought of that,” said Hero in a small voice.

* * * * *

The official start of spring was just a week after Egeria Lusk’s tea party. The entire week was warm and lovely as was the week after. The week after that, a cold spell hit and there were a few snow flurries, but the cold weather didn’t stay around. It was little more than a memory of the winter that had been. Construction in the colony picked up to a feverish pace as immigrants continued to arrive from Greater Brechalon, Freedonia, and even a few from Mirsanna and more distant lands.

The new Town Square became, as had been planned, the commercial hub of Port Dechantagne as scores of new houses were built to the south. The businesses there thrived. The pfennig store, which supplied the town with imports from toys to biscuits, grew busier. Mr. Parnorsham even managed to sell a few mechanical music players. The most successful establishment though was Finkler’s Bakery, which had so much business that they had to take on several employees, including Graham’s sister, Gaylene.

The Zaeri community on the east side of town expanded faster than any other district. Hero’s sister Honor played a major part in getting the new settlers adjusted to their new homes. As spring turned into summer, the twins were able to help her more as they were both ahead in their studies. This last detail particularly irked both Graham and Senta, who since they had been shirking during much of the winter months, had to buckle down all the harder to catch up.

More lizzies moved into Port Dechantagne to work at the docks, build roads and public works, and most of all to become servants in the homes of the humans. Cissy, Kheesie, Sirrek, and Tisson stayed on in their positions in the Dechantagne home and earned a degree of trust with the family. They became well known enough in the colony that many humans recognized them individually, as they did Miss Lusk’s major domo Chunney. Just before the end of spring, old Kendric the lizzie guide died. His remaining young disciples, including the diminutive Kendra moved out of Port Dechantagne and back to their distant villages. The positions of guides for the humans were filled by other lizzies.

Iolana Calliere grew quickly and infused the Dechantagne-Calliere home with a new level of energy. She remained the only little one in the home though. Despite hopes and prayers, by the end of the summer, Yuah found that she was still not with child. To make matters worse, Terrence grew more distant, as he looked for the day he would return to Brech to have his sight restored.

Saba Colbshallow and Eamon Shrubb became close friends and continued to be important members of the militia, until late the next year when another job opportunity arose. Though Eamon frequently pointed out that Saba needed a girlfriend, it was he who was struck down by love at first sight when he met a fetching young redhead from Brechalon. Saba, though single, oversaw the construction of his home, a small A-frame house just across the road from the Dechantagne estate. He ate many meals with his neighbors and could often watch Mrs. Dechantagne from his loft window as she walked through the gardens.

Courtney Jex returned to Sumir and his fame increased when he painted a portrait of the Brech royal family. His painting of Zurfina occupied a spot in her bedroom, directly across from the stairway, where Senta or anyone else who entered would see it before anything else.

Two weeks after the tea party, Senta celebrated her eleventh birthday. She received a beautiful white bonnet from Hero, a hand-carved wooden dragon from Hertzal, and a tortoise shell brush from Graham. Zurfina surprised her with a zoetrope, which when spun around, displayed the images of a man and woman dancing. And Bessemer gave her a toy facsimile of a pony made of wood and yarn, matching the gift that she had bought for him.

Senta continued her magical studies and become proficient at advanced magic, though it was quite some time before she next attempted a fireball spell. As Graham had warned her, once Bessemer had learned to speak he grew more and more loquacious. Senta and the steel dragon became even closer, had long conversations while sitting on the sea shore during the day or beside the warmth of the cast iron stove at night, and by the time fall rolled around again, he had far surpassed her in their shared level five primer.

The End

About the Author

Wesley Allison is a teacher and author living in Henderson, Nevada with his wife Victoria and his two grown children Becky and John. For more information about the author and upcoming books, visit http://amathar.blogspot.com.

Books by Wesley Allison

Look for them wherever fine ebooks are sold. Select titles are also available in traditional paper formats at the City of Amathar Blog and by special order from your favorite bookseller.

Princess of Amathar

Transported to the artificial world of Ecos, Earth man Alexander Ashton struggles to understand the society of his new friends the Amatharians. As he does so, he finds himself falling in love with their princess and being thrust into a millennium-long war with their mortal foes the reptilian Zoasians. Princess of Amathar is a sword-swinging novel of high adventure.

His Robot Girlfriend

Mike Smith's life was crap, living all alone, years after his wife had died and his children had grown up and moved away. Then he saw the commercial for the Daffodil. Far more than other robots, the Daffodil could become anything and everything he wanted it to be. Mike's life is about to change.

His Robot Wife

In His Robot Wife, the novella-length sequel to His Robot Girlfriend, it is the year 2037 and Mike has been married to his robot wife, Patience, for five years. Troubles are on the horizon though. Prop 22 promises to annul marriages between humans and robots. And Patience hasn’t quite been herself. Is there something wrong, or does she just need a software upgrade?

His Robot Wife: Patience is a Virtue

It is the year 2037, when men are men and robots are cute. Patience, the robot wife, has a new friend– Wanda. Wanda, another Daffodil, has been having difficulty bonding with her human, the recently divorced Ryan. She hopes that with Patience’s mentoring, she’ll be able to help Ryan accept her into his troubled life. But even Patience isn’t prepared for what happens when they take a joint vacation cruise to Antarctica. His Robot Wife: Patience is a Virtue is a science fiction story in a world where technology is more than just a pretty face.

Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess

Eaglethorpe Buxton, famed adventurer and story-teller, friend to those in need of a friend and guardian to those in need of a guardian. He is a liar and braggart, not to be trusted, especially around pies. Who are we to believe? Buxton himself leads us through his world as he comes to the aid of… a poor orphan? An elven princess? Who can guess with Eaglethorpe himself telling the tale?

Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Sorceress

Eaglethorpe Buxton, famed adventurer and story-teller is back, this time to put on a play about a sorceress. When the sorceress, subject of his play arrives with fire in her eyes, Eaglethorpe must pretend to be his good friend Ellwood. Will he pull off this charade and survive? And what happens when the real Ellwood shows up? One can never tell, especially when Eaglethorpe tells the story.

Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 0: Brechalon

Brechalon is the novella-length prequel to The Voyage of the Minotaur and the books which follow in the story of Senta and the Steel Dragon. Meet the people who will change a world-- the Dechantagnes, wealthy siblings from a disgraced aristocratic family who plot their revenge; the imprisoned sorceress Zurfina; and Senta, the orphan girl who will one day rise to great fame and power.

Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 1: The Voyage of the Minotaur

In a world of steam power and rifles, where magic has not yet been forgotten, an expedition sets out to establish a colony in a lost world. The Voyage of the Minotaur is a story of adventure and magic, religion and prejudice, steam engines and dinosaurs, angels and lizardmen, machine guns and wizards, sorceresses, bustles and corsets, steam-powered computers, hot air balloons, and dragons.

Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 2: The Dark and Forbidding Land

Two years have passed since Senta, the sorceress Zurfina, and Bessemer the steel dragon arrived in the strange land of Birmisia. Now it is up to the settlers to build a home in this dark and forbidding land, ruled by terrifying dinosaurs and strange lizardmen. Ten year old Senta must discover which is the greater threat, a would-be wizard or the ever-increasing presence of the tyrannosaurus.

Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 3: The Drache Girl

More than three years have passed since the colonists arrived in Birmisia, and Port Dechantagne is a thriving colony, with the railway line almost complete. Twelve year old sorceress's apprentice Senta Bly, Police Constable Saba Colbshallow, and former maid Yuah Dechantagne must deal with wizards, prejudice, steam carriages, boys riding dinosaurs, and the mysterious activities of the lizardmen.

Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 4: The Young Sorceress

Everyone in Port Dechantagne seems to have an agenda of their own, from mysterious sorceress Zurfina, to agents from the enemy nation of Freedonia, to the kings and witchdoctors of the mysterious lizardmen. On the eve of her fifteenth birthday, sorceress’s apprentice Senta finds herself being pulled first one way and then the other. Will she actually have to split herself into four in order to deal with all her responsibilities?

Senta and the Steel Dragon Book 5: The Two Dragons

War has come the Birmisia. The newly settled colonists contemplate war on two fronts. The mysterious lizardmen from far away Tsahloose, led by their monstrous dragon god, threaten from the south. And from across the sea, the totalitarian kingdom of Freedonia threatens to invade their world with wizards and steam-powered war machines. Can even 17 year old Senta and her mistress Zurfina the Magnificent stop them? Find out in the thrilling conclusion to the Senta and the Steel Dragon Series.

Tesla’s Stepdaughters

In a world where men are almost extinct, someone is trying to kill history's greatest rock & roll band. Science Police Agent John Andrews must negotiate a complicated relationship with Ep!phanee, the band's lead singer; drummer Ruth De Molay, bassist Steffie Sin, and the redheaded clone lead guitarist Penny Dreadful, as he protects them and tries to discover who wants to kill the Ladybugs.

Women of Power

The life of a superhero is tough. All American Girl fights supervillains, alien invaders, and terrorists as she tries to get product endorsements and a magazine deal. That's nothing compared to her private life though. She's only just broken up with her super boyfriend Perihelion when he's scooped up by Omega Woman, and now rival Skygirl has moved into her territory.

Blood Trade

Vegas is going to hell-- literally. Werewolves run through the streets and the vampires are taking over. Former army ranger/Goth tattoo model/private eye Xochitl McKenna doesn't like it either, especially when it comes between her and her clients. But are the vampires and werewolves the greatest threat, or is it something or someone much closer to her? Warning: Adult Content.

Astrid Maxxim and her Amazing Hoverbike

From the 180,000 acre campus of Maxxim Industries, fourteen year old girl genius and inventor Astrid Maxxim works alongside her father, Dr. Roger Maxxim, on projects to make the world a better place. Her latest invention is a flying scooter—the hoverbike. Is it the target of an international spy ring, or are they after secret Project RG-7, or Astrid herself?

Table of Contents

Book Two

Chapter One: Winter

Chapter Two: The Lizzie

Chapter Three: Marriage

Chapter Four: Private Eamon Shrubb

Chapter Five: Spells and Potions

Chapter Six: Yuah and Cissy

Chapter Seven: Powerful Magic

Chapter Eight: Saba the Spy

Chapter Nine: The Ruin

Chapter Ten: The Drache Girl

Chapter Eleven: The Book

Chapter Twelve: Iguanodon Heath

Chapter Thirteen: What Happened on the Third

Chapter Fourteen: The Day of the Daggers

Chapter Fifteen: The Tea Party and After

About the Author